


My Savior

by ShelbieRae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Eventual Romance, F/M, Head Boy and Girl, Loss of Virginity, Mating Bond, Veela, Veela Draco Malfoy, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-01-22 21:04:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12490812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShelbieRae/pseuds/ShelbieRae
Summary: Hermione Granger wants nothing more than to just finish her education and have a normal year. Draco Malfoy simply wants to find his Veela mate before his clock runs out. What happens when they both return to Hogwarts, get Head positions, and have to share a living quarters and duties? Will they kill each other, or will new feelings emerge? WARNING: This is rated M for a reason.





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: Disclaimer. I do not own the wonderful world of Harry Potter. If only right? Enjoy!

Pain. All she felt was pain. "What else did you take?" a voice screeched above her. She tried to speak, to scream even. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. There was only pain.

Then she felt the cool metal of the dagger digging into the skin of her arm. A fresh wave of tears and screams washed over her. Maniacal laughter surrounded her. A sort of darkness surrounded her vision and all she could think about was how easy it would be to just let go. To let the darkness take her; to give up.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the pain dulled to a slight throb. Hermione felt disconnected from her body. She couldn't control anything, she couldn't even stand. Silence. Dead silence. Somehow, in the back of her mind she knew this should worry her. But her mind couldn't even process the smallest of thoughts.

Click, click. The sound of high-heeled boots struck a hardwood floor and stopped right beside her. Suddenly, she heard deadly words fall from a woman's mouth and saw a blinding green light flash across her eyes…

Hermione shot up in bed, screaming. The place where she had been laying was damp with sweat. The sheets were twisted and knotted around her legs. Shaking, she climbed out of bed, grabbed her wand from under her pillow, and crept down the stairs of Number 12 Grimwauld Place, where her and Harry had temporarily moved in after the War, so that the Weasley’s could have time to grieve in peace. 

As she made her way down the hallways of the old, rickety place, she examined and noted all of the progress that had been made in ridding the house of the creepy, dark objects and the loud, obnoxious portraits of the Black family. 

She tiptoed into the kitchen only to find Harry already sitting up staring into the fire.

Hermione knew that Harry hadn't been sleeping very well since the Final Battle. It had been a month and a half and both he and Hermione were still plagued by nightmares. While Hermione's dreams consisted of Draco Malfoy's deranged aunt torturing her in Malfoy Manor, Harry's were about all the death, everybody who died for him. She knew the guilt still ate at him every day. She frequently heard him wake up screaming in the night, yelling out names of the deceased. Friends. Practically family. 

She wove her way through the cabinets to sit next to Harry at the table. "Can't sleep?" she asked him quietly. He shook his head and answered, "By the sounds of your dreams you couldn't either." She shook her head sadly.

They sat in silence for a while till Hermione finally spoke up, "Penny for your thoughts?" Hermione liked muggle sayings like that. They brought about some normalcy after the year she had had. Harry laughed lightly. "I don't know Hermione. I'm just at loss for what to do now that He's finally gone. I mean I know I'm going to take Kingsley's offer and become an auror, but I just feel like it's all so pointless now. Like anything I do now won't make a difference.” 

Hermione knew how he felt. The war had affected many people in various ways. Of course Harry had been affected more than most, but there was still loss… still mourning in the Wizarding World. If one were to walk through Diagon Alley, there was celebration yes, but there were also several funerals, several broken hearts. 

The one that haunted Hermione the most, strangely enough, was Draco Malfoy. She had seen a picture of him the Daily Prophet after his and his mother’s trial, in which both she and Harry had testified in for them, and the look in his eyes was the saddest thing she had ever seen. Both him and his mother had been set free, but the look in his eyes would have told an onlooker something different. Like they were about to lock him up. Like he had no hope for life left. Like there was nothing in this god forsaken world that could save his soul from cracking into several fragments. Hermione had only seen that look in one other person, and that had been when she was looking in the mirror. 

A few weeks after the war, Hermione had gone to Australia to find her parents. She visited all the necessary places before finally looking for them where she had sent them.It took her two weeks to finally find them. In the St. Augustine Cemetery. The moment she saw their names carved permanently into the stone, she fell to her knees. She could no longer hold herself up. She was so full of despair. She had stayed in the town for a few days and laid some flowers on her parents grave. A proper goodbye. Though the cause of death that had been officially reported had been that their hearts had simply just stopped, she could only guess that it was simply the Ministry covering their asses. 

She had returned two weeks ago, tears still streaming down her face. Harry, in the process of walking down the stairs, didn't say a word. He didn't have to. They'd been so close so long he knew without her telling him.

He held her all night till she had cried herself dry.

Harry spoke again, bringing her back to the present. "Are you going to take McGonagall's offer and finish your schooling?" Hermione nodded, "I sent my acceptance to her yesterday." Harry nodded and laughed. "I'm sure you'll blow through it. The Brightest Witch of Our Age. Would not have survived without you out there Hermione. " he praised her while he slung an arm around her shoulders. She laughed in agreement. They sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the night, talking here and there, about little things, and about what was in store for them, till the sun came up.

A/N: Alright lovelies I'm sure you know the drill. The more reviews I get, the faster I post the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Enjoy!**

While Hermione and Harry sat and watched the sunrise, miles away Draco Malfoy was being woke up from a strange dream.

The moment he woke up he hopped out of bed and rushed to find his mother. He knew the importance of this dream.

Draco was not a superstitious man. He didn't believe in that silly class Divination, or in the prophecies the class encouraged. Mostly, whenever the silly bint waltzed around the classroom, moaning and crooning about the silly predictions or things she was seeing, he was too busy checking out the wonderful birds and their slightly altered school uniforms. That was back when everything made sense. When silly bints and his next lay in the broom closet, in between stints with Pansy of course, were the most important things in the world.

Back when ignorance really was bliss.

After the war, Draco and his mother had been put on trial before the Wizgamot and both had been let go without punishment. His mother had been let go after evidence of his father’s abuse and manipulation came to light, as well as Potter’s, or Pothead as Draco liked to refer to him as, testimony that Narcissa had lied to Voldemort on Harry’s behalf, as well as evidence of spousal abuse performed by Lucius. Draco had been let go because he was a minor as well as the testimony from Granger, The Ever-Bleeding Bookworm, saying that during the end he had fought on their side. And shouldn’t he have?  Looking back, he never really understood what his father had pounded in his head and he didn't see what the big deal had actually been. 'I mean look at Granger for instance,' he thought almost bitterly, 'she can put the whole school and half the wizarding world on their ass with one swish of her wand. I'm certainly no match for her.' The idiotic ideals of his father had been so branded in his mind and had blinded him so harshly that he never saw the big picture. He never saw what his mother had wanted to teach him all along. Blood is blood. It means nothing more. He just wished he had seen this sooner, and he wished that Hermione Granger, the insufferable know-it-all, had not been the one to show him this concept in the end by defending him despite the years of torture he forced her to endure.

His father had not been as lucky, and had been sentenced to be imprisoned in Azkaban for the rest of his life. Draco and his mother had no qualms about it. For all Draco cared, he could rot there.

Now while Draco was not a superstitious man, this particular dream he had just experienced was something he had better damn well listen to.

After everything had died down from the war, his mother had revealed to him what was not necessarily a surprise. He had been told that he was half Veela. Both his mother and father had the blood of the Veela in their veins, therefore Draco now had to bear the burden of what it meant to be a Veela. Now being as he was turning 18 in exactly 1 year, he had that long to find a mate and complete the mating ritual, lest he die of the heartbreak that any Veela suffered upon rejection of their one true love.

Bah. Love. Draco had to resist the rolling of his eyes. Now that he knew of his true nature, he had to accept the fact that he would not always be the Playboy of Hogwarts and soon to be London. He would have to accept that one day he too would fall prey to the roses, the dates, the romantic, sloppy, disgusting things he always cringed at. He would have to trust someone other than his mother. And that scared him more than anything. That itself was the true problem.

During the last two weeks his mother explained his Veela nature to him and what exactly would have to happen in order for the ritual to take place. He would have a dream showing where they were destined to meet and he would have to woo her. The ritual included him biting her and then her biting him back, right on the neck. They would have to consummate their love afterwards by making love. It could not be forced, for it would hurt the Veela to harm his mate physically or emotionally. But, if he were to fail, he would die on his 18th birthday, from the pain of having the other half of his soul ripped from him.

Bollocks, this was not going to be easy.

Suppose his mate despised him? Suppose she refused to marry him or mate with him? These were all thoughts that had constantly gone through his mind up until he had the dream. Now, he was not so afraid.

He made his way into the kitchen where his mother was sitting up, already dressed and awake, with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Hogwarts," he announced, "I had the dream Mother. We are destined to meet at Hogwarts. I must return for my final year."

His mother smiled serenely. The sight warmed his heart. He hadn't seen her truly smile since he was young. "Of course darling," she answered, "you'll need to owl McGonagall to tell her you accept her offer."

 He nodded, "I'll do that today. Time is running out. Term is starting 1 month." Narcissa laughed.

"Draconis you have plenty of time, calm down." Draco's eye twitched at the sound of her using his full first name.

He outwardly smiled at his mother though and answered, "Yes, Mother, I'm just nervous. What if I don't find her? What if she doesn't accept? Who wants to be forever tied to an Ex-Death Eater?"

His mother looked at him sadly. He has been through so much at such a young age. Rage filled her, thinking about her ex-husband and what he had done to their only child. He had put him through so much, and had possibly ruined his chances of finding his mate. Her heart constricted, knowing what would happen if he didn't.

Outwardly, she smiled at him, trying to instill some courage in him. "Remember Draconis her soul cries for yours as well not just the other way around. You may have to put on some Malfoy charm, but I know I taught you how to treat women. She won't be able to resist." She finished with a wink.

He smiled weakly at his mother and answered, "I could only hope you're right Mother."

**A/N: Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay this is how dedicated I am to this story at this point. I am typing, on Google docs, from my phone. You all should absolutely love me.**

One week before term was set to start, Hermione woke up to a tapping on her window. A school owl was perched on the outside window sill, holding a letter with the school insignia stamped in wax on it.

Hermione hopped out of bed, and ran to the window to let the owl in. The owl flew in, dropped the letter on the bed, and proceeded to land on the rocking chair in the corner and hoot indignantly. Hermione must've taken far too long to open the window for the owls liking. Hermione giggled and went over to pet the owl affectionately.

"I don't have a treat for you." Hermione said sadly. "If you fly downstairs, I'm sure someone could get you some toast or something such as that." The owl hooted and flew out her bedroom door.

She sat down on her bed and opened her letter. A small golden badge fell out in her lap. HG in big golden letters screamed up at her from the badge. Her heart sped up and her eyes widened. She ripped the rest of the contents out of the envelope.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been made Head Girl for your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Congratulations._

_Here are the supplies that are required for the year…_

Hermione didn't read the rest. She jumped off her bed and hurled down the stairs into the kitchen where she ran straight into Harry knocking them both onto the ground. Harry grunted in pain.

"Excited about something 'Mione?" he mumbled. Hermione laughed and squealed in Harry's ear, forever making him deaf in that particular ear.

"Ow." He groaned. Hermione hopped up and helped Harry to his feet.

"Read," she demanded, shoving the parchment in his face. Harry sputtered and told Hermione to calm down. She bounced on her heels the while Harry, in her opinion, read the letter entirely too slow.

When he did finish, Harry kept staring at the parchment with a smirk on his face, knowing it would rile her. When she finally realized what he was doing she smacked his arm and he laughed, "Congrats. Though I can't quite figure out why you're exactly surprised."

She rolled her eyes at him and answered, "Well after all the years of following your arse into rule-breaking and being an international Wizarding World outlaw, I figured my chances were next to none."

"Hey!" he protested, "It's not like I didn't try to stay out of trouble. Most of the time, trouble found me not the other way around. You’re also forgetting the fact that we _saved_ that same Wizarding World.”

Though Hermione thoroughly disagreed with the first part of his argument, she decided to drop it and eat some breakfast. Toast, eggs, waffles, and hash browns had been lain out on the table by Kreacher, who had been more civil to her lately. She realized how hungry she was as her stomach growled at the food.

She sat down and started shoveling food onto her plate and then into her mouth in a way that would make Ronald Weasley proud.

"In a few days I'm going to go to Diagon Alley to get all my school supplies for the year." She announced. Harry nodded. "Remember Ron and I leave for Auror training tomorrow." She nodded.

She wasn't particularly happy with the set up. They would be gone the entire school year. They wouldn't even be back for holidays. This left Ginny and Hermione to worry all year while they were put in dangerous situations for their training. At least Ginny would be returning with her to complete her final year as well.

After breakfast was over they headed over to the Burrow, as Molly was preparing a dinner for them in celebration of Harry and Ron leaving for training.

When they walked through the door, Ginny attacked Harry savagely, knocking him to the ground in a passionate lip lock causing it to be impossible for Hermione to get through the door.

When she finally did get through the door, she was met by a broad chest with a red head. She was squeezed into a hug and lifted into the air by none other than Ron Weasley.

After the war, they had decided that they were better as just friends and that the kiss they shared in the Chamber of Secrets was just a spur of the moment thing brought on by the fact that they were sure neither of them would live to see the sun rise. They simply had no chemistry and unbeknownst to Ron, she thought him to be rather boring as a significant other. She craved someone who would stimulate her mind and not drag it down. He just simply wasn't smart enough for her. He preferred to talk about Quidditch, whereas she searched for more stimulating topics of conversation. Despite these issues, it was not to say he wasn't still an amazing friend.

He let her go and gave her a clumsy smile. "Hey 'Mione." She smiled back and answered his greeting before Ginny finally detached herself from Harry and they all made their way into the kitchen. Molly was slaving away at the stove.

Dinner was in a few hours, so the boys and Ginny decided to go play a game of Quidditch. Hermione, being terrified of heights and preferring to stay firmly on the ground, went upstairs to curl up with a good book.

When dinner was finally ready everybody sat down and began eating. The usual buzz of conversation could be heard and Hermione broke the silence by announcing what she had gotten in the mail. This was followed by hugs and congratulations all around the table.

Hermione spent the rest of the night with friends and thinking about how amazing this year was going to be. She simply couldn't wait.

**A/N: Well there you have it! Chapter 3. The more reviews, the faster chapter 4 comes up. Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Alright so I am back on my laptop guys and ready to update yet another chapter!**

As Hermione entered Platform 9 3/4, she was assaulted by the memory of her first year; she was so amazed by everything she saw. No matter how many times she walked into that platform, it got her every time. She teared up, remembering her parents and how nervous they looked about walking through a brick wall, and how proud they looked as they watched the train roll away from the station.

She shook her head to clear the tears away. Her parents wouldn't want her to dwell on their death. They would want her to live her life in their memory. Which is exactly what she planned to do. Yes, she missed them. Yes, it had not been easy without them. Yes, sometimes she wished she could walk into her mom's loving embrace and be able to be a young kid again, needing her mother's’ assurance. But, she would live in their memory and make every moment that she did have with them count.

She moved about the platform, between excited first years, and other students seeing their friends again. It felt so weird being here without Ron and Harry. The year in general would feel weird without them by her side, getting her into trouble every time she turned around from fixing the last problem. Maybe, she could actually avoid getting detention with Filch this year!

A head of red hair could be seen bobbing its way through the crowd and break through a group of third years to where Hermione stood. Ginny walked over to Hermione and hugged her tight. "Hey 'Mione. You ready?" Hermione nodded and they boarded their train with trunks in tow.

They moved down the length of the train, looking for an empty compartment. They found one with Luna and Neville already sitting in it and they scooted in, and loaded their trunks above.

"Hey everybody how was your summer?" Hermione questioned warmly.

"Mine was great," Luna spoke up, "my father and I went hunting for wrackspurts in Germany. Then we went to Italy to search for crumbledinks."

"That's interesting Luna…" Hermione answered slowly as Ginny snickered. Hermione nudged her and looked at Neville. "What about you Nev?"

"Oh it was great," he answered, "Grandma and I went on a road trip in America. We went to all kinds of muggle monuments." Hermione smiled knowing those ordinary muggle things fascinated wizards. “Then I came back and spent the rest of the summer with this lovely lady.” he finished, winding his arm around Luna’s waist. Hermione’s smile grew; she was so happy for the young couple. They deserved to be happy after everything they had been through.

"That sounds really cool! I've never been to America." Ginny responded sadly. Hermione felt bad for the girl. She wished she could do something to help her family after all they had done for her and Harry.

Hermione was about to speak again until she caught sight of her watch and realized that if she didn't leave now she would be late for the prefects meeting. "Well I gotta get going. I have a prefects meeting in 10 minutes." She announced.

They all bid her goodbye and Hermione turned around and ran straight into a broad back attached to a pale blond head.

~

Draco had been walking towards the prefect cart with the Head Boy badge attached to his chest when a small, soft body ran straight into his back.

He turned around, a smart-ass comment at the ready, only to be met with a most confused Hermione Granger. And my, my, my had she filled out over the summer. Her hips had gotten wider and her breasts had definitely gotten larger. Not that Draco had been keeping tabs of course. But God, how could he not? She really wasn’t bad looking at all. ‘Wait what am I thinking?’ Draco thought to himself with a mental slap to the face, ‘this is Granger we are talking about. She’s ugly, with beaver teeth and bushy hair.’

 Except, she wasn’t. Her teeth were now perfectly straight and her hair had tamed itself into shiny loose curls falling down her back to her waist.

Meanwhile outside of Draco’s inner monologue and arguing with himself, Hermione winced, knowing a hurtful comment was probably on its way to be crushed up like a piece of paper to be hurled at her face. Instead she got the shock of her life when she heard the mumbled words of "Sorry Granger" before he walked ahead, avoiding her gaze.

Hermione stood there in absolute silence, mouth agape, eyes wide. 'That was Draco Malfoy,' she thought to herself, 'the one who tormented you for years, then tried to kill you and all your friends, and watched his deranged aunt torture you. And he just apologized.' Her mind ran a million miles per minute. Finally her mind awoke long enough to realize that now she was terribly late.

She sprinted down the length of the train, and burst through the doors of the compartment. Everybody stared in alarm and fright at the famous Hermione Granger looking so distraught. Meanwhile, Draco was very closely examining how entrancing her breasts were as her chest heaved up and down.

Dammit! Where were these thoughts coming from? This was the bookworm, know-it-all, goody two shoes. Just the kind of girl he couldn't stand. Plus, it was Granger, Pothead's friend. He couldn't stand any of them.

And what was with this apologizing for her running into him. Even if it was his fault he shouldn't be apologizing. 'I am a Malfoy,' he thought arrogantly, 'and we do not apologize.'

He made the conscience decision that from now on there would be not more apologizing to anyone, especially Granger. And no more bloody sexy thoughts about her either. He was on a mission to find his mate not dabble in thoughts about an insufferable know it all. He shook his head in disgust and tuned in to listen to the aforementioned girl.

After she calmed down she went to the front of the compartment so she could speak to the prefects.

"Welcome everyone," she started, "I hope you all had a good summer. Congratulations! You've all received the wonderful privilege of being prefects. There's not really much to be done yet because we have yet to get timetables set up. The Head Boy and I will get those set up sometime this week. Who is our Head Boy?" she added as an afterthought.

Hermione got the second shock of her life in one day as Draco Malfoy, whom she had not seen in the corner, stepped forward and raised his hand.

"Malfoy?!" she screeched. He raised one perfect pale eyebrow and answered, "Yes Granger that is my name. Though I know it's impossible to keep from screaming it, I don't think this is the right place or time." He finished with a wink. Hermione spluttered, "What?!" she shrieked. Malfoy sent her his signature smirk. She made it just too easy to rile her.

"Everybody out," Hermione ordered in a low voice, "now."

 "But Her…" a little fifth year interjected; in which Hermione interrupted, "I said OUT!" Everybody flinched and scuttled out the door quickly. Draco thought this all to be absolutely hilarious. He had never seen her so angry. It was comical. Though he did admit, it was slightly scary to see her eyes look at him with such a murderous glint in her eyes. When the door was closed, she began pacing and ranting to herself, "I can't believe McGonagall chose him. What is she thinking?" Draco couldn't help it. He busted out laughing.

Hermione turned to him and with a look that would make even Voldemort flinch in terror, she sent a hex at him that turned his mouth into a zipper and zipped it up.

"Listen here you incompetent arse. If you make any trouble for me this year, I will personally take your balls and stretch them over your shoulder and shove them down your throat. I will NOT be a victim and you will NOT bully me this year. I have survived a bloody war, I have battled far worse than the likes of you, and you don’t scare me. You don’t even affect me anymore. So please, politely, go FUCK yourself." She finished in a deadly tone.

Draco gulped as she undid the curse and stalked out of the room. ‘I’m pretty sure that is the first time I have ever heard her curse.’ he mused to himself. ‘She has sure developed quite the attitude and mouth on her.’

It was going to be one hell of a year.

**A/N: Well here it is: chapter 4! I’m really busting out the chapters today, but I really need some motivation to make this thing happen. Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I’m sick in bed, and the only thing that soothes my boredom is writing more for this story. Let me know what you guys think!**

After making sure the First Years got to McGonagall safely, Hermione ran up the front steps and into the main hall.

The minute Hermione stepped foot in the main hall of Hogwarts, tears sprung to her eyes and her knees almost buckled. ‘Home’, she thought, ‘I’m finally home.’

She closed her eyes and threw out her arms and let out a giddy laugh spinning around in circles. This was the happiest she had felt in months. It was as if someone had lifted a huge weight off her shoulders and she felt free. No more running. No more worrying. She was free.

~

Draco was annoyed. Of course, what other emotion did he have? Cynical? Bored? Mean? He grumbled to himself, cursing the first years that had gotten lost and that he had had to return to the safety of McGonagall before he could go to the feast on his own. “Bloody first years,” he sneered to himself, “the first thing they were told to do was to stick together!”

He rounded the corner and stopped dead. For standing in the main hall, was Granger, with the most serene look about that he had seen since the Great War. She had her arms thrown out and was spinning in circles, letting out the sweetest line of notes Draco had ever heard. There was a tug at his heart and he felt as if he could hardly breathe.

Her long chestnut brown hair flowed down her back and her face was lit up with the brightest smile that reached all the way to her eyes. Draco’s knees buckled and he had to grab the wall to keep from falling. His breath came out in short pants and as hard as he might, he could not tear his eyes from this enchanting creature.

Like lightning through the sky, a voice in the hallway tore Draco’s head from the clouds and back down to earth. He stumbled back in surprise as he heard Ginny Weasley yell, “Hermione there you are! Hurry up, we’re gonna be late!” Hermione turned around and practically skipped to the Weaslette. As the walked away, Draco Malfoy slid down the wall, nearly collapsing, and wondered what the hell just happened to him.

‘What the hell was I thinking?’ he fumed at himself. ‘What the hell was that? How could I have been bloody enchanted by the bookworm?’ Draco stood up quickly and continued his trek to the Great Hall, all the while cursing himself and everyone and everything in the book for his behavior towards Granger today. ‘It must be my coming of age,’ he assured himself, ‘it’s got me acting like a complete idiot.’

~

When Hermione made it to the Great Hall, she sat at her house’s table next to Ginny, Luna, and Neville. McGonagall had already had the sorting and had made the beginning of the year speech, so the food was already on the table.

Hermione’s stomach grumbled with longing and she began piling her plate with the wonderful food made by the house elves, and made a mental note to send a thank you note to the kitchens later.

Though Hermione had kind of gotten off track on the efforts of S.P.E.W during 6th year and the time of the War, she still wholeheartedly believed that the elves deserved their rights. This year, she was going to make a point of making it an importance to begin working at it again in between her school work and duties as Head Girl. Many people would think that there was no way any person could juggle three jobs this hard that required that much time and effort. But this person was Hermione Granger and she was used to multitasking. Besides, she had already read the first half of all the textbooks she had for all her subjects she had that year. She was already ahead. She could practically see Harry and Ron rolling their eyes at her, sitting across the table from her.

Those thoughts aside, Hermione suddenly missed Ron and Harry very much and really wished that they were here, regardless of whether or not they got her in trouble. She made the conscious decision to write each of them a letter after she was finished with her dinner.

When she was so stuffed full that she could barely move, and McGonagall had dismissed them all to bed, she walked up to the table at the front of the Great Hall to meet with McGonagall to discuss her and Malfoy’s living area. She knew that they would have a separate one from their houses and that they would have to share it. She really hadn’t thought about that till this point and now she was desperately hoping Malfoy did not provoke her again. She really didn’t need to add murder to the list of laws she had to have broken at this point in her life.

When she reached the table, Malfoy was already standing near McGonagall, scowling holes into the floor beneath him. Hermione didn’t know why, but a pain in her heart, almost like hurt, that she chalked up to anger flashed through her and she couldn’t stop her mouthing from opening and letting the anger out, “Come off it Malfoy, living with me really couldn’t be that bad. I won’t touch any of your stuff and I’ll stay out of your way. I wouldn’t want to dirty anything with my foul blood.” she bit out with poison.

Malfoy could not believe his ears. SHE was accusing HIM of not wanting to live with her. He hadn’t even been thinking about that. He had still been stewing about his reaction in the hallway. Even so, before he could stop them, the hurtful words were out of his mouth, “Good. I wouldn’t want you ruining any of my nice things.” Something like hurt flashed over her face and Draco felt a sharp pain in his stomach that almost had him doubling over in pain. But he managed to hold it together and return Granger’s glare right back at her. What the hell was wrong with him today?

McGonagall interrupted before Hermione could retort, “Enough! Ms. Granger! Mr. Malfoy! I expect better behavior from the two top students whom I appointed as Head Boy and Girl. Do not make me have to rethink my decision!” she finished sharply and both Hermione and Draco had the audacity to look ashamed before mumbling their apologies. “Right then,” McGonagall continued, “allow me to show you two to your quarters that you will be sharing for the year.” They both nodded before following her through a door that was on the side of the table at the back of the Great Hall. It led them down a corridor to a portrait hanging on the wall of two young lovers that were lip-locked. Upon seeing the picture, Hermione blushed and Draco snickered.

“Peppermint leaves” McGonagall’s voice rang out throughout the hall. The portrait swung open to reveal the most immaculate Common Room that Hermione had ever seen. Naturally, greens, reds, silvers, and golds were mixed together within the decorations of the room, most likely to symbolize unity, which was the main theme at Hogwarts, or really anywhere, in the Wizarding World after the War.

Two large plush chairs and a huge couch sat in front of a huge fireplace, that had two large bookcases on either side of it. Towards the back of the room there were two staircases leading up in opposite directions that Hermione could only assume were the bedrooms. In between the two doors there was another door.

“Mr. Malfoy’s room is to the right and Ms. Granger’s room is to the left. The door in the middle is a combined bathroom that you two will share.” McGonagall stated, “Classes start at 8 am sharp as I am sure you remember. Good night.” She left the room with a firm close of the portrait.

An awkward silence fell over the room, and Draco broke it by saying, “I’m sorry about earlier. I was a prick. I’m going to head to bed. Goodnight Granger.”

With that he walked up the stairs to his bedroom and closed his door with a resounding thud. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. Malfoy has apologized to her. Twice in one day. She shook her head in disbelief. Hermione turned around and took in the room one more time before heading up her own staircase.

When she opened the door, Hermione squealed with joy when she took in the huge four poster bed, the large oak desk that Hermione could probably have slept on, and her huge dresser that Hermione would empty her trunk into tomorrow. For now though, she could barely stay on her feet.

She quickly wrote out her letters to Ron and Harry, before attaching it to her owl and sending it off. Next, she wrote the thank you note for the kitchens and changed into her pajamas. She climbed into her bed and under the huge plush comforter. Immediately after her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep, with thoughts of how much of a weird start this year had had.

**A/N: Ok here’s the fifth chapter! I hope you enjoy!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey guys! I know that you guys are just as ready as I am to get to some good Veela action and I promise you I’m getting there! But I have to have a story line and meat to the story as well so I must bore you with some minor details first before we get to the juiciness ;). Stay patient my friends. The lemons are a coming.**

Hermione woke to her wand vibrating on her nightstand telling her it was time to wake up and get ready for the day. She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, yawning in the process. She climbed out of bed, grabbed her robes for the day and her IPod, and padded downstairs to the bathroom. She placed her clothes on the counter and turned her IPod on shuffle before undressing, turning the water on, and climbing in the shower.

Draco woke to the sound of notes coming out of the bathroom downstairs. He groaned in annoyance, before climbing out of bed and stomping downstairs, planning on giving the bookworm a piece of his mind, not taking into account that she might be naked.

“Granger what is that bloody-” he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the most amazing and angelic sound he had ever heard in his life coming from the shower.

“Darling, stay with me, ‘cause you’re all I need. This ain’t love it’s clear to see. But darling, stay with me.” Hermione sang her heart out on the last note. The only time she ever sang was in the shower. She hated singing for people, or in front of them. No one, not even her parents had ever heard her do it.

Draco felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, her voice was so incredibly beautiful. It took him several minutes to comprehend the rest of the situation. When he did, it was too late to flee the scene because just as he was about to turn and run, Granger stepped out of the shower in just a bloody towel.

The minute she noticed him standing in the doorway, she shrieked, “Malfoy get the hell out of here! What is your bloody problem?” At this point two things ran through Draco’s mind. One: he much preferred her singing voice to the shrieks that were currently leaving her mouth. Two: he needed to get the hell out of here before she hexed him into an oblivion. And he did just that. Without a word to her, or to anyone really, he turned around and scurried back to his room, slamming the door and leaning against it, trying to calm his ragged breathing.

‘I have got to find this bloody mate of mine soon,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’m going bloody bonkers.’

Meanwhile, downstairs, Hermione was fuming. The nerve of him! How dare he come in here, when it’s very clear that she was showering. And to make matters even worse, he had stayed, and stared at her in the oddest way, and then ran away like nothing happened, skipping over the snide remarks that Hermione has expected would come from him.

‘Bloody idiotic git,’ she grumbled to herself, ‘this living situation is going to be really complicated.’

After Hermione had gotten dressed her satisfaction, she traveled down the stairs and into the common room only to find Malfoy pacing nervously and grumbling to himself incoherently. Okay. It was official. Malfoy had lost his marbles. Hermione crept up to him slowly and whispered, “Malfoy…?” he turned around quickly and looked at her. “What?” he asked quickly. “Are you okay?” she asked slowly. Instead of answering her, he looked down at the floor and replied quietly, “I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to walk in there. I didn’t realize you were using the shower.”

Hermione sighed. She supposed she had been a little hard on him. “It’s okay, Malfoy. Maybe we should figure out each other's bathroom schedule so something like this doesn’t happen again.” He nodded before replying, “Yeah we can do that tonight after we draw up timetables for patrols.” Hermione smacked herself in the forehead. She had completely forgotten that they had to get that taken care of.

“Yeah sounds great,” she sighed, “well I’m going down to breakfast. I’ll see you later.” And with that, she climbed out of the portrait and started making her way to the Great Hall. On the way, she mused in her own thoughts. Okay, Malfoy had apologized to her, three times. What was going on? What was wrong with him? And what was with the way he had looked at her this morning in the bathroom?

When she made it to the Great Hall, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind as best she could and made her way to the table. When she sat down, she saw that McGonagall was already handing out timetables and class schedules.

When she received hers she saw what she had dreaded from the beginning. Every single class she had, she had it with the 7th year Slytherins. She groaned and looked over to the Slytherin table to find Draco Malfoy already staring at her, with his schedule in hand. She looked down to avoid his gaze and when she looked back up he had resorted to glaring at his breakfast. Hermione took a moment to realize that he was sitting all alone at the table. None of the other 7th years were with him, and he looked extremely lonely. No one, not even his best friend Blaise, seemed to want anything to do with him. Parkinson was even avoiding hanging all over him.

Two things happened at once. Hermione felt a flash of pity for the poor man and then she got a hot flash of pain that struck through her heart, almost causing her to double over in pain. What the hell? What was going on? Was she getting heartburn?

But just as quickly as it came, it was over. Hermione sat there in shock for quite a few minutes trying to figure out exactly what just happened. She glanced over at Draco and he was doubled over, looking like he was in extreme pain. Okay, what the hell was going on? Surely it was a coincidence that her and Malfoy had both felt pain at the same time… but… maybe not.

“Mione you okay?” Neville asked her quietly. Hermione shook her head and nodded quickly, “Yes, I’m fine, just trying to get back into the habit of waking up early again.” Neville nodded in understanding and turned back to his conversation with Luna. Hermione tried to go back to the task of getting some breakfast, ignoring the strange things that kept happening.

When she finally finished, she grabbed her bag and made her way to the dungeons for her first lesson of the day, Potions with Slytherins, and of course, the eccentric Professor Slughorn. When she walked in she saw that she was one of the first ones there, another one being Malfoy. She decided that she might as well try to be friendly and went and sat down next to him.

Right as she sat down, Malfoy’s eye about bugged all the way out of his head and his jaw dropped. “Close your mouth, Malfoy, you’ll catch flies.” He snapped his jaw shut and was about to give Granger a piece of his mind before Professor Slughorn walked over to their table.

 “How could you two have possibly known that I was going to pair you up this year?” he seemed positively delighted, as he walked over to the door to greet the rest of the students that were filing in the door.

Malfoy glanced over at Granger and she looked like she might be sick to her stomach. Meanwhile Malfoy was slightly amused. This was definitely going to be an interesting class. Granger slammed her head down on the desk and Draco couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud this time. She slowly lifted her head and glared at him. He clapped his mouth closed quickly and suddenly found the wall very interesting.

The rest of the class was boring, most of it just being a lecture about what they would be learning and what would be on the NEWT’s they would have to complete by the end of the year. When the bell finally rang and class was dismissed, Hermione was already halfway out the door and down the hallway.

Malfoy stood in the hallway watching her race down the hallway, wondering if he possibly should have showered that morning.

~

By the time Hermione finally got back to her and Malfoy’s common room that night, she was dead on her feet. She had forgotten how much work that school actually could be and she didn’t even have any homework assignments yet. All she truly wanted to do was crawl into bed and cuddle with her beloved cat, Crookshanks. However, she knew she had to wait for Malfoy to return so they could create the timetables before she could go to bed.

Malfoy stumbled through the portrait hole minutes later, after Hermione had already plopped down onto the couch in front of the fire. He was grumbling lowly to himself and seemed to take no notice of her. “Bloody idiots…. going to get me expelled… if they had half a brain…” were just pieces of his monologue that Hermione could pick up. She giggled to herself softly.

Draco heard the most wonderful sound he thought that he had ever heard in his life. He whirled around and Granger’s body sprawled on the couch, her mouth propped open in a silent laugh. He shook his head to remove these disturbing thoughts.

“What are you grumbling about Malfoy?” Hermione mused. He frowned at her and began his tale, “These stupid Slytherin first years. They were in the hallway causing a ruckus with some WEASLEY products. They ran off right after using them, leaving me in the wake of their destruction. Filch damned near talked my ear off for 45 minutes.” Hermione’s giggles escalated to laughter through the course of his story.

Draco felt the breath leave his lungs. Her laughter. It was so enchanting. Before he could stop himself, he whispered, “You have a lovely laugh.” Her laughter stopped dead in its tracks. They stared at each other for a good 3 minutes before Hermione broke the intense silence, like a knife cutting through the tension, “Well, we should probably get these timetables drawn up.” Draco frowned then agreed sullenly with her. What was going on with him? Was he in heat because of his Veela pheromones? This was Granger they were talking about.

Even Draco had to admit to himself, she was definitely beautiful. Was it the fact that he had been trained to hate her? Was it because his father had literally and figuratively beat it into his head that wizards without pure blood were beneath him? Even though he had let go of that way of thinking, was it because he had spent the better half of his life hating her and the Golden Trio? Was it just instinct at this point? Draco didn’t know. All he knew was that suddenly, it hurt him to be mean to her. He wanted to protect her. And he had no idea why.

So as they sat down to write the timetables, Hermione stuttered nervously, and Draco considered the possibility that his sudden change in heart towards the little bookworm might be Veela-related.

**A/N: Alright guys we are moving right along with this story! Review and let me know what you liked, what you hated, and I’ll try not to make you guys hate me even more as the story progresses.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Chapter 7 is here! I’m slowly trying to move in the direction of romance, but with these two it must be slow-going, unfortunately, or it feels unreal. Enjoy!**

Draco woke up that morning around 3 am to the sound of horrific cries coming from Hermione’s room. Without even thinking or realizing what was making him do it, Draco sprung out of bed and ran to her room to see what the commotion was.

He came into the room in a flurry of panic only to see Hermione writhing around in her bed, sheets tangled, a sheen of sweat covering her body. Something inside Draco snapped and he ran to her side to wake her and protect her from whatever was frightening her.

He wrapped his arms around her and tried to still her movements. She fought back for quite a while but eventually calmed down. Slowly, she opened her eyes and mumbled, “Harry?” Draco froze. An immense pain flashed through his chest but he kept his face impassive and untouched. When she was finally coherent, she widened her eyes and said, “Oh! I’m sorry Malfoy. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She blushed profusely, “Nor did I mean to call you Harry. I’m just so used to him waking me up from these night terrors.”

Draco’s face softened and he murmured, “It’s okay. If you don’t mind me asking, what are your nightmares about?” Hermione looked down and refused to meet Malfoy’s eye.

“I really don’t think you need to ask Malfoy.” she murmured. Draco stopped breathing, and closed his eyes to try to calm down. He knew precisely what she was talking about. His damned, psychotic aunt, and her blatant hate for Hermione’s blood.

Without realizing it, Draco had begun crying. Hermione was shocked, and without thinking, she lifted her finger up to Draco’s smooth face, and wiped the tears off his cheek. Draco’s eye shot open, and he jumped back a few inches, releasing Hermione.

Hermione was shocked at her actions and began stuttering, “I’m sorry, I--I didn’t mean--”, Draco cut her off with a sneer, “It’s fine, I am just not used to...being touched.”

They sat there awkwardly for a few moments staring at one another. Finally, Draco spun on his heels and walked back to his room without another word.

To say that Hermione was confused would be an understatement. Malfoy had actually looked concerned when she woke from her terrible nightmare. What was more, the stupid git actually had the decency to look pained and ashamed when he realized his aunt was the star of her terrors. If that wasn’t enough to put Hermione in cardiac arrest from shock, the bloody wanker had begun crying.

Then a thought hit Hermione that she had not considered. Had Draco changed? Did he actually feel regret about what had happened during the war? And what was this suddenly calling him Draco business?

Hermione shook her head and resolved that she would forget this ridiculous business for now and just try to get back to sleep.

Unfortunately, sleep never reclaimed Hermione, and at 6:30 am she went downstairs to take a bath before class. When she stepped into the bathroom however, she found that it was already occupied by the other inhabitant of the dormitory. Malfoy was floating in the huge bathtub that took up a majority of their bathroom.

Hermione squeaked in surprise and tried to run out of the bathroom, but she tripped over her own feet and fell with a hard SMACK.

Draco heard a large thud from the corner of the bathroom and whipped around in his bath. There on the floor, lay Hermione. Draco’s heart and stomach both seized in pain, and before he knew what he was doing, he had lept out of the bath and ran to her side.

Her face was reddened with embarrassment, but she didn’t look hurt much to Draco’s relief. Still, he felt the need to confirm this. “Are you alright?”, he asked breathlessly.

She looked up at him startled. Then she took in the fact that he had not bother to put any clothing on before jumping out of the bath and was stark naked. Her eyes widened briefly as they settled on his male nether regions and then they quickly returned to his face.

Draco quickly covered himself the best he could with his hands and had the decency to look chagrined. Several emotions flicked over Hermione’s face as he stood there awkwardly, but it seemed that she finally decided on anger.

“Malfoy you slimy git! I’m fine. I do, however, recall us agreeing upon a bathroom schedule that assured me that you would not be in the bathroom in the morning!”

Draco was taken aback to say the least. He had just jumped out of his nice bath to make sure she was alright AND embarrassed himself for Christ’s sake. The fact that she was yelling at him for this right now was bollocks and he intended to inform her of the fact.

“Well excuse me Granger, I didn’t mean to inconvenience you in any way. I didn’t intend to be in your way. I just couldn’t sleep after you woke me up with your incessant whining and crying. But I’ll leave you alone.”, he retaliated coldly.

With that Malfoy stomped out of the room and up to his private quarters. Hermione was shocked and then angered. How dare he! She had had absolutely no intention of waking him up last night, she could not control the extent of her reactions to her nightmares. And it wasn’t like she had asked him to come to her rescue.

She picked herself up off the ground and stomped up Malfoy’s staircase to give him a piece of her mind. He didn’t immediately answer when she knocked on his door; she kept knocking until he finally swung the door open with unnecessary force. He was now halfway dressed in a pair of trousers and his hair was tousled and still wet.

“Can I help you Granger?” he snapped at her.

She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but she stopped dead when she glanced down at his arm. There, on his forearm, was a symbol that had caused so much pain and suffering. The Dark Mark had faded slightly, but it was still extremely visible. Hermione could not take her eyes off of it.

Before she knew what her body had in mind, she was lifting her hand towards his arm. Malfoy also seemed froze in place. When her hand finally made contact with his arm, a large electric shock seemed to hit both of them and they jumped apart.

Malfoy looked stunned at first, and then it became anger. He advanced on her until she was backed up against the wall and his face was inches from hers. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, but she refused to back down. She would not be intimidated by him. Therefore, she straightened herself up and looked him straight in the eye.

Malfoy’s next words were so deadly quiet that Hermione almost didn’t hear him.

“Don’t ever touch me again.”

With that he slammed the door in the face of a very stunned Hermione. Hermione walked down the stairs in a dazed state. When she arrived back at her room, she began getting ready for her day.

When she walked back down the stairs to the common room, she noticed that Malfoy had already left. With that knowledge in her mind, she breathed a sigh of relief and made her way down to the Great Hall to grab some breakfast.

Hermione could not understand why she acted the way she did. She should have been disgusted. That mark was used as a campaign against her own kind. It had been linked to the darkest wizard in the world. Why was her blood not boiling with hatred for the man she was forced to share a living quarters with?

Could it be because of the look of pain that had flashed in his eyes when she had noticed the mark? Could she have possibly seen regret?

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. What was wrong with her? This was Draco Malfoy, and she had just justified his decisions. Even though these thoughts were coursing through her mind, she could not find the familiar hatred that usually lay there.

By the time Hermione reached the Great Hall, she was more confused than ever. She sat down next to Ginny numbly and began making her plate for breakfast. Ginny immediately noticed that Hermione was being quiet and looked at her skeptically.

“What’s going on Hermione? Did that stupid git do something to upset you? You know I’ll wring his neck if you need me to.” Ginny was looking more agitated the further she got into her speech.

Hermione bit her lip and paused before answering. Did she want to tell Ginny about the way Malfoy had been acting? She needed someone to talk to. She didn’t understand what was going on herself. Maybe Ginny could offer her some insight.

“Gin, I’m so confused!” Hermione moaned in frustration, “Malfoy has been acting so…. _weird_.”

A look of anger flashed across the face of the red head, and Hermione knew that she only had about .5 seconds before Ginny flew off the handle and hexed Malfoy’s bollocks into oblivion.

“He hasn’t been overly mean or git-like,” Hermione said quickly, “he’s been… _nice_ and, Gods help me, almost agreeable.”

Ginny wore a stunned look on her face for a few moments before bursting out into laughter. Tears were running down Ginny’s face by the time she was done, and Hermione was shooting her a glare that could have withered the Whomping Willow.

“This is MALFOY we’re talking about ‘Mione. He’s not nice, or cordial, he’s a git. A big slimy one. You’ve gone mad if you perceive his actions to be anything but a way to get to you.”

Hermione had to admit that Ginny had a point. Draco had never given her a reason to believe that he was capable of being a decent person.

Wait.

When did he become _Draco_?

Merlin, she really was losing her mind. Somewhere between walking in on each other while bathing, and waking up to his face after on her nightmares, he had become Draco in her subconscious mind.

Hermione did not have time to sit and process what this meant, as it was almost time for class. She groaned as she realized that she may not even get the chance to process this new information until her head hit the pillow tonight, because she had not an ounce of free time until then. Her mood further soured when she realized that tonight was the first round of patrols for her and _Malfoy._

Salazar’s rod, she was in for a long and confusing night.

**A/N: I know, it’s a cliffhanger, but I wanted to build up some suspense. (Plus I’m also on my break at work, updating the story). Enjoy!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Alright y’all, in this chapter we are finally going to get to some good Veela action. Are you as excited as I am?!**

Hermione ambled slowly beside Malfoy as they trekked down the halls, searching for anyone who may be trying to cause any kind of trouble. The walk beside him had been painfully awkward up until now, and Hermione could barely stand it anymore. She wracked her brain for anything she could use to make conversation. Why she even wanted to make conversation with Malfoy of all people in the first place, she had no idea, but she decided that she would try.

“So, what made you decide to come back to Hogwarts,” she inquired.

Draco jumped and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Why was she trying to talk to him? He was perfectly content to pretend that she didn’t exist and that his body didn’t hum while she was near. One could say that Draco was most certainly in denial.

However, he decided that he should humor her and answer, that way she may shut her trap and leave him alone once her curiosity was laid to rest.

“Personal reasons,” he drawled with a bored look on his face.

Hermione shot him a glare and rolled her eyes. Of course, he wasn’t going to cooperate or be nice to her. Why should she expect anything else?

Draco’s annoyance peaked when she began to ignore him, and refused to retort. He was aware of the fact that his goal had originally been to, in fact, make her leave him alone, but something in his baser nature was telling him that he did not like it all when she ignored him. Almost as if he _craved_ her attention.

This thought startled Draco, and he felt the need to reply to her sarcastically, lest she think he had lost his touch, “Where are Weaselbee and Pothead? I figured they would both be here, up your arse, as per usual.”

Fury filled her eyes, and Draco smirked in satisfaction. Ah, yes. This was normal; this was the right dynamic between the two.

“Do NOT call them that, Malfoy! They happen to be in Auror training, thank you very much. More than I could say for _you_ , beings as you are here, looking as lost about your future as ever,” she spit.

Pain flashed through Draco’s body at her insult, though his mind was telling him that he should be furious at her for having the audacity to speak to him that way. Thoroughly confused about the reaction his was experiencing, he decided that he would respond with equal venom.

“No need to get your knickers in a twist! It’s not my fault that the only two blocks that want to come sniffing around your pants are half-wits.”

Hermione’s jaw practically hit the floor at his assumption. How dare he!

“You foul, evil git! They’re my best friends! I-I would _never_ ,” she sputtered indignantly.

Draco’s eye widened in shock, partly because he was shocked that she had not been with at least _one_ of the Golden Trio, and also because of the thought that crossed his mind the minute she said she hadn’t been: he was relieved.

 _What_? What in Godric’s name?

Why was he relieved of all things? Why did he care if the Book Worm had been with one of those two or anyone else at all for that matter.

His eyes widened even more as another possibility crossed his mind. Was Granger, Miss-Good-Two-Shoes, a _virgin_? As his mind pondered the possibility, the primal part deep inside Draco growled with satisfaction. Shocked by this reaction, he tried desperately to bury it.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, and a look of apprehension crossed her face.

“What’s with that look, Malfoy?” she questioned cautiously.

A sinister, evil smile spread across Malfoy’s face, and he looked like the cat that ate the canary.

Hermione’s steps faltered at his look, and she put a little more distance between her and the ferret.

After several moments, Malfoy spoke up, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you Granger?” he asked casually.

Hermione bristled. He said the word almost as if it were a dirty word, as if he were uttering another word that he called her not so long ago. A word that was etched into her arm for the rest of her life. Hermione saw red.

She reared back, and for the for the second time in her life, her hand made contact with the face of Draco Malfoy.

Draco would later admit he should have seen it coming. He should have known she wouldn’t just grin and bear the insulting question that had fractured his heart to utter with such animosity.

The sting of her hit didn’t register until Draco was already good and furious with her. He was about to retaliate, and her a piece of his mind, but she beat him to it.

“That is absolutely NONE of your business Draco Malfoy! How dare you! Just because you can’t find a disgusting Mudblood like me attractive, doesn’t mean that other people don’t! I thought you had changed, but I was wrong. You’re still the same pathetic, hateful little boy who is nothing without the power of his name to hide behind!” Hermione screeched in his face and stalked away, leaving Draco doubled over in pain, clutching the wall for support.

 He didn’t think that his heart could hurt this much, in fact for years he had been certain that he didn’t have a heart, but it felt as though someone had a vice around his. Through his blurry vision, he watched Granger stalk down the hall and turn a corner, and he could not shake the feeling that he was very deep in trouble indeed.

~

Hermione could not remember being more furious in her entire life. Surely she had been at plenty other moments, but currently, all she could think about was finishing Mad-Eye’s job from fourth year, and permanently making Malfoy the ferret he deserve very much to be.

Hermione turned another corner, completely lost in thought, and ran into a solid chest. When she looked up, she inwardly groaned at the sight of whose head was attached to said chest.

Cormac McLaggen was staring down at her with an arrogant smirk.

“Granger! What brings you here so late at night?” he mused while wrapping his arms around her body, which was still pressed up against his.

Hermione quickly and forcefully detached herself from McLaggen before answering. “I’m patrolling tonight, McLaggen, and you are out past curfew. I’m going to have to take 5 points from Gryffindor for this.”

McLaggen just stared at her lazily. “You don’t want to take points from your own house do you, Granger?” he said in what he probably thought was a seductive voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes and answered, “McLaggen, I can’t favor my own house. You’re breaking the rules, so you have to be punished.”

McLaggen’s smirk widened at her words, “Oh, I would love for you to punish me, Hermione,” he crooned as he took a step forward.

Hermione was immediately on alert. She could not believe that McLaggen had the gall to talk to her this way! She began reaching for her wand that was in the back of her jeans, but the minute her hand closed around it, McLaggen grabbed her and slammed her against the wall, knocking her wand out of her hands.

“Do you know how long I’ve watch you, you little tease,” he breathed in her face, “strutting around, swinging your hips. You know this is what you want. Your body language says it all.”

 Hermione cried out and struggled against him, but he just held her fast. His lips were descending on hers, and were inches away when she heard a ferocious roar from down the hall.

“Get your hands off of her!” a voice that she barely recognized commanded.

A second later McLaggen was ripped off of her and thrown on the ground, with Malfoy standing over him. Hermione stood still in shock, and watched as McLaggen’s face contorted in horror while looking at Malfoy.

“If you come near her again, I will KILL you. She is MINE!” Draco growled while towering over McLaggen menacingly. His voice was so low and so deadly that Hermione barely caught the last thing he said.

 Hermione finally snapped out of her daze right as Malfoy’s hands were heading for McLaggen’s throat. “Malfoy!” she cried out.

He head whipped around with a growl, and Hermione could see exactly why McLaggen had been terrified. Malfoy’s once grey eyes were glowing silver, and his teeth had elongated into fangs that extended past his lips. Once he realized who it was that called his name, his expression softened and he straightened.

As he began to walk towards her, McLaggen saw this as his cue to leave. He scrambled up from the floor, and high-tailed it down the hallway.

Hermione could not tear her gaze away from Malfoy’s face. What was _happening_ to him? She had never seen someone’s face contort this way. His hand came up and touched her cheek gently, a small smile gracing his lips. Hermione jumped at the contact and the bolt of electricity that seemed to emit from the place where his hand met her cheek and spread throughout her entire body.

Hermione was wondering briefly if she should take Malfoy to Madame Pompfrey, when he collapsed onto the floor. A small shriek came from her mouth, and she dropped to the floor next to him. After quickly examining him, she found that he had no injuries, he just seemed to have passed out.

Quickly making a decision, she stood up and grabbed her wand from its place on the floor. She carefully levitated Draco’s body, and began to walk down the hallway with him in tow. While on her way to the common room they shared, her mind was deep in thought. So much so, that she kept hitting Draco’s head on several doorways. Surprisingly, it did not wake the grumpy Slytherin, just made him grumble in what seemed to be a deep slumber. 

She had no idea what had happened to him. It was almost as if he turned into some kind of….creature.

Hermione elected to do what she always did when she didn’t know something: she was going to go to the library.

Once she reached her common room, she gave the password and carefully brought Draco inside. She navigated him, albeit with some difficulty, up the stairs to his bedroom. Once there, she bit her lip in thought for a moment before opening the door and letting herself inside.

The design of his bedroom shocked her. There were very few green elements; most of the décor was in shades of black and grey. Shockingly enough, the room was very tidy and organized. Hermione was used to seeing the dormitory of Ron and Harry, who were both slobs. It was refreshing, to say the very least, to see that not all men were content to live in pig sties.

 On his desk, there was a picture of Draco and a regal looking female version of him that Hermione recognized as Narcissa Malfoy. Draco was looking at her with affection, and Narcissa seemed to be actually laughing at something. Hermione didn’t think she had ever seen either one of them look so relaxed. 

She gently lowered Malfoy onto the bed and pulled the covers over his body. He turned over and snuggled into one of the pillows and Hermione chuckled gently. It was almost…cute. He looked so peaceful while sleeping, which was such a drastic change compared to his usual scowl of disapproval and general unhappiness that he wore every day.

“Mione..” he mumbled softly and hugged the pillow harder.

Hermione froze. Surely she had heard him wrong. There was no way he had just whispered her name in his sleep. She stood still for a few moments, and when he didn’t speak again, she convinced herself that she was just hearing things. She backed out of the room slowly and closed the door.

Hermione was not usually one for breaking rules, but she felt as though this was a dire situation. She bemoaned the fact that she had hoped for a rule-breaking free year with Harry and Ron nowhere near, but just accepted it. If she was living with a creature, she needed to know what she was up against, especially if that creature was Malfoy.

Hermione settled herself down at her favorite table, and surrounded by her favorites sights and smells, she set to work doing research. She was up for several hours, pouring over books about magical creatures. She was about to give up, when she came across a passage about Veelas.

As she read on, her eyes widened and her heart constricted in shock.

She knew exactly what had happened tonight.

**A/N: I know, I know. Long chapter and a cliffhanger. I just really wanted to get some Veela action in and start building towards a confrontation we all know is coming, especially now that our favorite book worm knows exactly what is going on.**

**While waiting for the next chapter, feel free to visit my page and read some of the one-shots I’ve written for the fandom!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Alright guys, I’m back. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to the story, but I’ve been busy with my school work and applications for GRAD SCHOOL! But now I’m back, homework done and glass of wine in hand, ready to add to the story. Either way, now we are going to get into Draco’s reaction about how he behaved. How do you think he will respond?**

Malfoys do not panic.

It is below them.

They were to always keep their cool, they would always remain regal, and they would always do anything they could to save face.

Draco was vaguely aware of these principles that had been pounded in his head since he was a young boy as he paced about the common room in a frenzy, trying to figure exactly what in Merlin’s name caused him to behave the way he did the night before.

The Veela in him had presented itself.

And it chose Granger.

“Bollocks,” he growled to himself. Of all the ridiculously ironic things that could have happened, Fate decided to pair him with someone he had been taught to hate and someone who probably hated him more than anyone else did.

However, once Draco made himself think about it, he had always admired her as a witch. She was powerful, no doubt about that, and her loyalty to herself and those she cared for rivaled no other that Draco had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

The revelations he was having that told him he did not actually despise Granger, coupled with the fact that he had already succeeded in finding his mate and it was only October, should have made him overjoyed.

So, why was there a pit forming in his stomach?

Maybe it was because he knew he only had nine months to convince her that he could be someone that could care for her. Maybe it was because he would be setting out into something new with someone that hated everything about him. Maybe it was because his Veela had chosen someone that very well could reject him and kill him.

He remembered clearly the look of terror on her face the night before when she thought he was going to hurt someone. The memory made a now familiar pain flash through him, that he now recognized as reactions to pain his mate could be experiencing, and he felt the need to rush to her side.

But then, just as vividly, he remembered the look of wonder she had when looking at the face of his Veela; he remembered the spark of emotion that seemed to appear fleetingly in her eye. Warmth spread through him at the thought of her approval, and a purring sound came from his throat.

His eyes snapped open.

What the _hell_ was happening to him?

When did he turn into such a sap?

Draco forced himself to calm down. He needed a plan. He needed to figure out what he was going to do about this situation. The first step was that he needed to talk to Granger.

This was going to prove to be a great feat. Granger had not come out of her room, in fact Draco was entirely sure that she was not even here. He would not be shocked if she had gone straight to McGonagall to request different living arrangements. She was the brightest witch of the age. Surely, if she hadn’t already known what he was, she would have done the research and quickly found out.

There was no doubt in Draco’s mind that he would have to work hard to succeed when it came to this hellacious bookworm.

~

War heroes do not panic.

They are better than that.

Hermione was aware of this as she nursed her coffee in the Great Hall, suffering from lack of sleep the night before. Her mind was whirling around, trying to make sense of the information she had found.

Draco Malfoy was a Veela.

And it would seem that his Veela had chosen her to be his mate.

Another burst of panic lit up Hermione’s chest. She glanced across the Hall to see if Malfoy had shown up to breakfast. Anxiety ripped through her as her eyes met his briefly, and a grimace of pain crossed his face.

Shocked, Hermione tried to calm herself down. During the mate-seeking process, the Veela and the mate were both equally sensitive to one another’s emotions. It was not unheard of for Veela couples to eventually be able to read one another’s minds as well.

Deep down, Hermione knew a talk needed to be had. They were supposed to hate each other! There was no way that this was going to work. At that thought, Hermione remembered one of the very last things she had read before falling asleep at her study table: Veelas who did not complete the mating process within one year of their coming of age, they would die of rejection and heartbreak.

There was no other option.

This time, Hermione could not contain the terror and panic that surged through her. She could NOT mate with her mortal enemy for life! Despair shot through her at the thought of the life she wanted her for herself, a life she had fought so hard for, a life that would now come at the expense of someone else’s life.

Hermione peeked back at the Slytherin table and found Malfoy staring at her.

That did it.

Hermione scrambled to grab her bag and rushed from the table. She walked as fast as she could towards the door, hoping to make it there before anyone noticed her absence.

She was rounding the corner when she heard, no _felt,_ Malfoy following her. She tried to speed up, so that she could pretend she was not feeling the dull ache to be near him.

“Hermione!” he shouted after her, “We need to talk.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. He called her by her first name, and he sounded desperate to talk to her. His increased desperation was no doubt a result of the Veela in him completing the first part of the mating ritual the night before: the claiming. When he had verbally claimed her, he had begun the process of the mating.

Remembering the details of her research at this moment just served to make Hermione panic more. She quickened her pace, and ran smack into another hard chest. Peeking up, she desperately hoped it would not be the person who had almost attacked her last night.

Thankfully, it was Neville she ran into.

“Are you okay, `Mione?” a startled Neville questioned. He put a hand on her arm, and a growl ripped through the air behind them.

Neville’s attention was drawn to the hallway behind them. His gaze darkened as it fell on a heavy-breathing Malfoy who looked murderous.

“Can we help you with something, Malfoy?” Neville questioned, his voice dripping with acid.

Malfoy’s gaze shifted from a protective Neville to Hermione, who was avoiding his gaze and refused to turn around. A few beats passed, and finally Malfoy decided to answer.

“No, I just needed to talk to Hermione about a Potions assignment,” he grit out between his teeth.

Neville’s gaze shifted between the two before he answered, “Well, I don’t suppose it can wait until class starts in 20 minutes?”

Malfoy had to bite his tongue and clench his fists to keep from engaging the poor wizard. It was not Neville’s fault, he didn’t realize that he was potentially stepping between a Veela and his mate, which was known to make Veela’s quite violent. Draco realized that he needed to leave the situation before someone got hurt.

“Of course,” he forced out with a sour-grapes smile, “I’ll see you in a bit, Hermione.”

With that, Draco used every bit of strength he had left to make himself leave. It went against everything he knew to be right, but he managed to turn around and walk away.

Once he was out of sight, a grateful Hermione turned to a confused Neville with a smile on her face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”, Neville asked cautiously, “Why is he bothering you?”

Hermione bit her lip and idly wondered if she should tell Neville the truth, or if she should just keep the information to herself. Although it _was_ Malfoy, it was not her business to spread. Hermione knew she hated it when people spread her personal information and violated her privacy.

Hermione decided that no one else needed to know anything about Draco’s predicament. It was something that she still was working through herself, and she didn’t need anyone hovering around her as though she had been deemed incapable of taking care of herself.

“It’s just Malfoy being Malfoy, Neville,” Hermione answered tiredly, “Let’s just get to potions, yeah?”

Neville looked slightly skeptical, but finally agreed and followed Hermione.

Around the corner, Draco was leaning against the wall, trying to regulate his breathing. That bumbling fool had touched his mate. He had _touched_ what was his. Draco was still seeing red, both because of Longbottom touching her, and because of the entire situation. He had had to force himself to walk away so he wouldn’t hurt Longbottom, because he knew that that would significantly lower the chances of Hermione, at the very least, hearing him out.

He had to admit, he was extremely grateful to Hermione for not telling anyone about his predicament. It was very Gryffindor of her, he thought with a sneer, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless.

Draco was beginning to panic again. How was he ever going to get her to talk to him? What if she freaked out? Of course she was going to freak out, what was he thinking? There was no way she was going to hear him out. He spent the better half of his life wanting her kind dead, for absolutely no reason other than the fact that his deranged father beat him for thinking any different. Now he knew that he didn’t think her inferior, nor did he ever, but did she?

If she didn’t, it would be the death of him.

~

Hermione had had a long day. She could barely focus on anything without thinking about the situation Fate had decided to place her in. She hadn’t raised her hand once in her classes, causing much concern amongst her teachers, Ginny had to break her out of her stupor more than once during supper, and she had even left her bookbag in the Great Hall the first time she left.

She walked towards the portrait hole to her common room and inwardly groaned when she walked inside. Draco was up waiting for her, no doubt in hopes he could confront her about what had happened the night before. He was pacing back and forth, looking extremely anxious. If Hermione weren’t so terrified about the information she had found, she would almost say he looked cute in his disheveled state. As it was, she wanted to do nothing more than take a hot bath and go to bed, so she could avoid the chaos her life had become because of a certain blond Slytherin.

When he finally noticed her, Draco stopped dead in his tracks and turned his body towards her. Hermione felt an instant calming sensation upon seeing him, which, ironically, made her anxiety increase tenfold. She knew from her reading that her body was responding to her Veela mate, and that she felt safe because she was near him.

“Hermione, can we talk?” he questioned anxiously. Upon further inspection, Hermione noted that he looked like he was a wreck. There were large circles under his eyes, and his hair was sticking up haphazardly, no doubt from him running his hands through it repeatedly.

“I’m not really in the mood, Malfoy,” she answered tiredly, “can it wait?”

Draco bristled. She was acting like this was no big deal. He was trying to be nice and cooperative, and she was not even trying.

“Granger, this is really important, and I really think we need to discuss it,” he said through clenched teeth.

The lack of sleep and stress, coupled with his insistence and her panic, caused Hermione to finally snap.

“I don’t care, Malfoy. If you want to pester someone, why don’t you go find another Mudblood to degrade.” Hermione growled.

She knew that it wasn’t fair. She knew that it was possible he didn’t feel that way anymore, but she couldn’t stop herself. The information she had found scared her and she was lashing out.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her, eyes blazing. Hermione backed up, her back hitting the common room door.

Draco stalked towards her, and slammed his hands on either side of her head, effectively trapping her. His face was a mere few inches from hers; Hermione’s breath became ragged as she fought with herself. The Veela mate inside her was happy that he was near, and wanted to purr with content.

‘What?’ Hermione thought to herself, ‘Purring?’ she shrieked internally.

She pressed herself as close to the door as she possibly could. She could not trust her body near him.

He stared at her intensely for several moments before he spoke, “Don’t EVER call yourself that disgusting slur again,” he growled in a dangerously low voice.

Hermione finally found her own voice, and that voice was furious that Draco Malfoy thought he had ANY right to tell her what to do.

“How can I refrain from calling myself that when you’ve spent years reminding that I’m no better than the dirt under your perfectly polished shoes?” she spit back at him. It felt good. She felt as though she had a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. This was their dynamic; they were settling back into familiar roles, instead of this complex and strange whirlwind of emotions they had been experiencing.

At least, that’s what Hermione thought they were doing.

That was, until Draco Malfoy let a feral growl escape him, and planted his lips firmly on hers.

Hermione froze, trying to process what was happening. His warm lips were moving against hers softly, yet passionately, exploring her.

It was how Hermione had always wanted to be kissed.

And she was not stopping him.

In fact, Hermione Granger found herself kissing him back. Her hands wound themselves through his hair and tugged at the soft strands. Draco moaned into her mouth and hooked his hands under her thighs. He lifted her up and pushed her against the door, while Hermione wrapped her thighs around his waist.

Draco deepened the kiss, then started trailing his lips down Hermione’s neck, nipping and sucking lightly. Hermione threw her head back and moaned loudly. In response to his ministrations, she rocked her hips against his, feeling his hard erection press against her center.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open.

What was she _doing_?

She began struggling against him, and it took Draco a few moments to realize that she was trying to escape his grip.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked quietly.

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to think. She had just had the most passionate, the most sexy snog of her life.

And it had been with her mortal enemy.

It happened before she knew what she was doing.

Hermione’s hand reared back, seemingly of its own accord, and slapped Draco across the face.

Draco stared at her in shock, and she stared back defiantly, before letting a sob escape her throat and running up to her room.

**A/N: I know, another cliff hanger. And she hit him again! She really does have a temper. We are finally getting to some good Veela action so bear with me! Also, I am very sorry, again, for how long it took me to update, I just want this to be perfect for everyone!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I know that I take way too long to update this story guys, and I’m so sorry. I have to really be in the mood to write on this, because building romance between these two is so hard to do. But here we go! Another chapter, and the romance is building! Hermione is at war with herself, and Draco is panicking, how will they react?**

Hermione was avoiding him.

Draco had accepted that he had acted in a highly irrational way. He had snogged the Bookworm for Godric’s sake!

And he had loved it.

Draco had wanted to blame the Veela hormones immediately after it had happened. Surely, he wouldn’t have kissed her willingly otherwise. Despite the fact that he no longer held prejudice against her blood, she was still Hermione Granger, hands down the most insufferable know-it-all that Draco had ever met, as well as the most difficult woman to ever grace his presence.

Once Draco had forced himself to think about her soft lips moving against his, her curvy body pressed against his muscular frame in the most delicious way, the heavenly sighs that had escaped her swollen lips when he licked her delectable skin, he realized that his entire being hummed with a feeling of _rightness,_ and he knew that he could no longer deny his growing need to be with her.

With this realization weighing heavily on him, he also recognized that Hermione was probably terrified. Without a doubt, he knew she knew. All it took was for him to look into her eyes that night and he knew that she knew.

Draco was desperate to talk to her, desperate to hear what she was thinking, to know whether she was willing to hear him out. And he was terrified that he would never get the chance.

His life, and potentially his heart, was in her hands, and he was running out of time.

~

Hermione, for once in her life, had no idea what to do. No book her precious library, no amount of studying, no amount of knowledge could help her when it came to men.

Or, more specifically, one man.

And that’s what scared her the most.

She hated being unprepared and not knowing what was happening; she hated being in the dark.

Even more, she hated that she had kissed her mortal enemy, and had loved it. It had been the best bloody kiss she had ever received in her short life. It had been so passionate, and yet he had been so gentle, treating her like she was a treasure to be worshiped.

She got chills when she thought about it.

But it was Draco Malfoy!

He was the slimy, disgusting git that had tortured her and her friends for the better part of her life.

He was also the Draco Malfoy who had been nothing but polite to her since returning, had apologized for being the ass he was, had snogged her senseless and left her blood boiling in a way that shot straight down to her core.

There was also no way she could even consider being romantically involved with him.

As Hermione warred with herself, she was completely unaware that Ginny was watching her closely. The redhead had noticed that she had been acting strange, and she was determined to find out what was going on.

“Hey, Hermione, I feel like we haven’t got to spend a ton of time together since we returned,” Ginny said, linking arms with Hermione in the corridor.

“I’m so sorry, Gin! I’ve been so busy in my classes, I’ve had my Head duties—”

Ginny cut her off, “Well, how about you come to my dorm tonight and we can do some catching up?”

Hermione nodded vigorously; this was perfect. She could avoid the uncomfortable discussion that Draco would inevitably want to have, and she could spend some time with her friend. She _had_ missed Ginny dearly, and she really needed to talk to someone she knew would be able to keep quiet about her current predicament.

When Hermione made it to Potions, she was so lost in thought that she tripped over her own feet and began her perilous decent to the hard stone floor.

Right before her face made contact with stone, two firm arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her upright. Hermione was about to turn around and thank the person who had caught her when she realized that her body was humming with a now familiar satisfaction, and she knew that if she turned around, her brown eyes would meet grey eyes.

Despite this, Hermione turned around, and sure enough, Draco’s deep grey pools were staring back at her. She tried to make herself look away, to distangle herself from his arms, to say _something,_ but her body was rebelling against her, telling her that this was where she belonged.

“Are you okay, Hermione?” Draco murmured quietly, breaking her stupor.

Hermione struggled in his arms, and he let go. She looked around and was mortified to realize that almost the entire class was staring at them. Her face burned bright red, and she finally turned back to the blond.

“I’m fine, thank you, Draco,” Hermione said coolly before turning around and walking to her seat.

Draco’s irritation was hard to conceal; this damned women and her mood swings and stubbornness would be the death of him. One minute he wanted to snog her senseless and make her forget her own name, and the next he wanted to shake her senseless or choke her.

Instead, he opted for a simple eye roll and scowl before taking his seat next to her.

The stars seemed to be aligned in Hermione’s favor, because Slughorn announced that he would be using today’s class to lecture, as the next potion they would be brewing was particularly difficult and dangerous.

This ensure that Draco would have no opportunity to try and talk to her, and she could think about how she was going to tell Ginny.

Hermione knew that her friend would never dream of judging her, but she was scared nonetheless. This was Draco Malfoy, the man the single-handedly let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, was responsible for Dumbledore’s death, and was a part of the group of people that had sent the world into chaos. Would Ginny be able to look past this as Hermione was beginning to? Would she be able to see that Draco was slowly changing for the better? That, just maybe, or so Hermione was tempted to believe, he never truly believed in the blood prejudice he had spent so many years preaching?

She wasn’t ready to deal with it. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. But most of all, she didn’t want to reveal the part of her that kept questioning why she was fighting this so hard.

~

When Hermione arrived at Ginny’s dorm that night, she immediately knew that Ginny knew something was going on. Ginny fixed Hermione with a scrutinizing stare, the one she usually reserved for her brothers or Harry when she knew they were hiding things.

“Hermione,” Ginny said calmly, “What is going on with you? You’ve been checked out for days. Talk to me, you know I’ll listen.”

Hermione paused for a moment, and then she burst into tears. All of her fear, frustration, and anger poured out of her, and she ran into Ginny’s waiting arms.

Once Hermione had managed to calm down, her mouth opened, and once she began talking about her situation, she found she couldn’t stop.

For Ginny’s credit, she stayed silent the entre time. She listened to Hermione talk about Malfoy apologizing, protecting her, and, finally, about his true nature and the part she played in it.

After she was done, Ginny was silent for a beat, before she reacted the way Hermione expected her to react all along.

“What the bleeding fuck?!” Ginny seethed, “How dare he drag you into this fucked up situation? This is _his_ problem, not yours. The audacity that that ferret has after everything he’s done to you, to Harry, to Ron—”

Ginny continued to rant until Hermione stopped her.

“Gin, he can’t help it, that’s not how Veelas work,” Hermione settled herself down to explain, “From the time a Veela is born, he or she has been fated to one person whom they are destined to meet and love for the rest of their life. They can’t hurt them, they don’t want to, they are devoted to them, attend to their every need, protect them with their life…” Hermione trailed off, thinking, just briefly, about the fact that that honestly didn’t sound incredibly bad.

Ginny watched Hermione carefully, gauging her reaction. Hermione was biting her lip, deep in thought; clearly what was happening was bothering her more than she was letting on. Could Malfoy really be affecting her this much? Was Hermione _falling_ for him? Ginny bit her own lip. Hermione was her best friend, and one of the smartest people she knew. She would never make a decision that would harm anyone, including herself. If she really thought Malfoy had changed, and was willing to forgive him, then Ginny was willing to trust her judgement.

Ginny wrapped her arms back around Hermione, and tried her best to soothe her. Inside, a war was waging. Ginny knew that in order for Hermione to make the best decision for her, she deserved to know everything.

“Hermione, there’s something I need to tell you,” Ginny said hesitantly.

Hermione looked up and at her friend. The normally fiery redhead was looking cautious and unsure.

“What is it, Gin?” Hermione asked cautiously, “Is there something I should know?”

Ginny bit into her lip again, and sighed.

“Do you remember when the war was over, and we had a memorial service for Fred?” Ginny asked quietly.

“Of course, I remember,” Hermione said tearfully. She still missed the Weasley twin dearly.

“After it was over, I realized that I had left my satchel at the grave side,” Ginny began, “and when I went back to get it, I saw a figure on its knees in front of Fred’s gravestone. I thought it was someone we knew...” Ginny trailed off.

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. What did this have to do with Malfoy and their situation?

“I started towards the person, prepared to comfort them. I wanted them to know they weren’t alone, and that everyone was hurting. But, when the person got up and turned around. I was able to see who was under the cloak. It was Malfoy.” Ginny’s voice broke on this last part.

Anger flared in Hermione’s eyes. How dare Malfoy infiltrate their mourning? Had he been there to gloat? Why hadn’t Ginny said anything?

“I was really angry at first. I started towards him again, prepared to bite his head off or hex him, I wasn’t sure. Before I reached him, I looked back at the headstone. There, at the base, was a bouquet of flowers.” 

Hermione gasped. Malfoy had never had anything but contempt for the Weasley’s; why would he care enough to honor Fred’s life?

“I was struck dumb. I had no idea what to do or say, so I hid behind the closest tree. I don’t think he ever saw me. I started going back every week, to see if anymore flowers had been brought. Every week, the same unique breed of flower was there at the headstone, but I didn’t see Malfoy again, until the last week before term.”

Ginny continued to look at her hands, which were twisting nervously, this way and that. Hermione’s mind was spinning, and she could barely believe what she was hearing. However, she knew that Ginny would never lie to her, and she was practical. If there was any doubt to be had about what had happened, Ginny would have simply dismissed the events altogether.

“I went back the week before term was set to start, and he was there again. I wanted to confront him, I wanted to know why he kept coming back,” Ginny swallowed hard, “As I approached him, I heard him talking. I heard him say that visiting Fred’s grave was always the hardest, because the Weasley’s had been Harry’s family for years. I heard him tell Fred that he didn’t deserve to die for something that should never have been challenged. I was utterly shocked; I couldn’t move.

Finally, I heard him say the most shocking thing of all: that he was sorry. He was sorry for the pain he had caused. He was sorry that he had fought on the wrong side in cowardice and that he hadn’t been strong enough. And most of all, he was sorry for all the pain he had caused. He was sobbing; he looked so broken. I didn’t know what to do, so I slowly backed away, and hid behind a tree until he left.”

Tears were streaming down Ginny’s face at this point; it was clear that Malfoy’s actions had shook the redhead to the bone.

“I didn’t understand what he meant when he said that Fred’s grave was the hardest to visit, until I looked around at the graves of the other victims of the war. At the base of every headstone, sat the very same flowers that say at the base of Fred’s.”

Ginny let out a sob as she finished her story. It was now Hermione’s turn to comfort her best friend, as she cried her heart out for her brother, whose death still, and probably always would, haunted their family.

After her last tear had dried, Ginny looked at her friend.

“Hermione, I know that I act like I think that Malfoy is still the same pretentious prick we have always known, but it’s because deep down, I can’t imagine him being anything else. I can’t see him being the broken, yet compassionate man I saw in the graveyard. I can’t reconcile the two.”

Hermione nodded, understanding her friend completely. She could barely convince herself that Malfoy had simply changed, or that he may not have ever been a prick to begin with, but she had seen the subtle changes. She could no longer deny that he was not the same evil, twisted, sadistic person they had grown up with. Suddenly, she knew what had to be done.

~

Draco looked up from his Transfiguration essay to see Hermione marching through the portrait hole with a determined look on her face. Draco instantly dove under the table, in fear that she may be on another rampage, with a mission to slap him or maim him in some other way.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said politely, “Malfoy, do you think we could talk for a moment?”

Draco peeked over the top of the table and stood up abruptly. Once swiping the imaginary dust off his trousers, he put his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet.

“Sure, I suppose we could.” He murmured, more to his shoes than her.

Hermione fidgeted for a few moments, before she moved towards the couch in front of the fire. She was not sure how she should approach this; how does one approach a person they’ve hated for a few years about such a touchy subject?

Before her brain could process what she was about to say, she blurted, “Why did you put flowers on Fred Weasley’s grave?”

Malfoy froze on the couch next to her, sitting rigid as a board. Finally, after a few moments, his shoulders sagged, and he spoke up, “After the war, I struggled with my inner demons, much like so many others. I knew I had no right; most of my demons were caused by no one but myself and the stupid decisions I allowed myself to make.” Draco swallowed, and his hands started shaking. Without thinking, Hermione reached over and grabbed his hand. It was warm, and softer than she would have imagined. It felt… right.

Draco looked at her from the corner of his eye. He wanted to say something to her, to tell her how complete he felt when she touched him. He was afraid, however, and he didn’t want to scare her off. He elected to ignore the urge to react, and continued with his story.

“My mother urged me constantly to see someone, even if it was just to talk to someone. As much as I love my mother, I couldn’t justify seeking help. I couldn’t even walk in Diagon Alley without being brutally and violently treated; so many people despised me and what my family had stood for, with good reason.

I had also convinced myself that this was my punishment for everything I had done. For the crimes I had committed, in the name of a hatred that I had never believed, for a man I despised. I accepted the punishment for my cowardice.”

Draco took a ragged breath; he couldn’t believe he was sharing this with her. He had never even shared this with his mother, with whom he was the closest. He felt Hermione squeeze his hand, encouraging him to continue. He looked up and into her eyes, seeing a quiet anger, no doubt as a result of the injustices she felt he suffered; he gave her a weak smile and continued.

“So, I ignored her pleas to seek help. If I didn’t want to help myself, what stranger would go out of their way to help me?

I began having nightmares, many of which starred people that had died as a result of my actions. Dumbledore, Lavender Brown, Fred Weasley, Tonks and Professor Lupin….so many others. I barely got any sleep; how could I, when I saw their faces every time I dared to shut my eyes?”

Hermione’s eyes began to well with tears. Draco’s story was filled with so much heartbreak, not just his. So many innocent people had lost their lives; his story was just a reminder among all the others, but it didn’t make Hermione’s heart ache less.

“One night, after a particularly bad dream, I found myself wandering to the cemetery, where most of the war victims had been buried. I came to the grave of a young boy, who had only been fourteen during the war, _fourteen.”_ Tears were streaming down Draco’s face at this point, and his voice was broken.

“This young lad barely got to live. He spent the better part of his teenage years terrified and in the midst of war. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I sank to my knees in front of his grave and began sobbing. I poured my heart out, apologized for the life he never had, the family he could never build, the love he lost the opportunity to feel, and felt spent afterwards. But to my utter shock, I felt better than I had in months. I felt liberated. I felt like I was finally dealing with how I felt.

After that night, I began going back to the cemetery, placing flowers on the grave of the victims. I started out with the names I didn’t know, because I didn’t know if I was quite ready to face those I had known.

Finally, after a few weeks, I found myself deciding to visit the grave of someone I knew. It was time. When I arrived at the cemetery, I noted that there was a large group surrounding a headstone. Most of the large group was adorned with red hair, so I could only assume it was a pack of Weasley’s.”

In spite of herself, Hermione giggled. Draco looked at her, and smirked slightly. She had an adorable giggle.

“After the group left, I approached the gravestone, and recognized the Weasley twin’s name. A pang of sadness and guilt went through my heart; I knew that the Weasley’s had always been family to Potter, and I owed him my life. After that day, visiting Fred’s grave was always the hardest, but most necessary action I could have taken.”

When Draco finished his story, Hermione sat in stunned silence, unsure of what to make of what he told her. It must have taken great courage to come clean to her about this, and she admired that. There was just one thing that bothered her.

“You did not deserve to be treated that way,” Hermione suddenly fumed, making Draco jump, “the end of the war was supposed to represent peace and unity, not division and more hatred! I didn’t put my life on the line and almost _die_ every single day, just so that the hatred could continue.”

Hermione seethed on, and Draco couldn’t help finding her tyriad heartwarming and a litte adorable. Her cheeks flushed in the most lovely way when she was worked up.

Without thinking he reached his hand out to brush her cheek and she froze, “You look lovely when you blush,” he murmured to her quietly.

This only caused her to flush further and study their hands, which were now intertwined. Hermione took a deep breath; it was time to discuss what she came here to talk about.

“Mal--Draco, I appreciate you telling me this, it gives me a whole new insight to who you are and what you’ve dealt with, but I still barely know you. I know your true nature, and I know that it has chosen me, but I’m not quite ready to forgive and forget. I need to know more about you, as a person, before I jump into anything more than friendship with you.” Hermione finished, biting her lip, expecting a tantrum.

Draco, however, was estactic. This meant that she was willing to give him a chance! He still had a chance; the thought made his face light up with a goofy grin. He took both of Hermione’s hands into his own now, and looked her in the eyes.

“Hermione, I understand,” he said gently, “I need to show you that I’ve changed, and prove to you that I’m not the same stupid, immature kid I was so many years ago. I’m willing to be patient.”

Relief flooded through Hermione and she smiled. They sat like that for a while, holding hands, both deep in thought. Eventually, Hermione stood up and stretched.

“I should probably head to bed, it’s getting late,” she murmured.

Draco nodded and stood as well. Hermione headed to her staircase, about to begin ascending, when Draco stopped her.

“Hermione, wait!”

She turned around and saw him loping towards her. He took her hand again, and kissed it softly, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Goodnight, Hermione,” Draco whispered softly with a small bow, before walking towards his own staircase and heading to his room.

“Goodnight, Draco,” Hermione whispered back to the empty common room, before turning back around and continuing the journey to her room.

**A/N: I know this is a super long chapter full of so much emotion, and that is part of the reason it took so long. The more reviews I get, the faster this gets going. Enjoy!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I know. I have to be just about the worst person ever. It has taken me far too long to update, and I am so sorry! I’m in my senior year of college, and things have just been crazy the last few months. However, those who are being rude about my timing, such as acting as though I will never update ever again, need to chill. While I love writing, I have a busy life, and some things must come first.**

**Rant now over, I’m finally going to throw you guys a bone in this chapter. Stay tuned, our favorite characters just may come to their senses!**

Hermione was sitting the in the common room, working on a Potions essay, when Draco stalked in, an air of annoyance surrounding him.

Hermione’s brow furrowed, and she spoke up, “Are you alright, Draco?” she asked slowly.

They had been spending more and more time together recently, getting to know each other, just like Hermione had wished to do. To his credit, Draco had been patient, and the perfect gentleman. She had learned that his favorite was actually red, a fact she never let him forget, his favorite book was _Pride and Prejudice,_ much to Hermione’s joy, because she loved Jane Austen, and he absolutely love the television his mother had bought when it became clear his father would never come home. His favorite Quidditch team was the Falmouth Falcons, and his favorite subject was Potions, despite his father urging him to study Defense Against the Dark Arts the hardest.

He had learned much the same things about Hermione. Her favorite color was yellow, and her favorite book was actually _Anna Karenina_ , because it taught Hermione that following your heart could have dire consequences. He also learned that she didn’t watch TV very much, mostly because she preferred to lose herself in a good book instead. He could barely contain himself when she revealed that she hated Quidditch and flying was her worst nightmare. This had appalled him, and he had clutched his heart in jest, causing her to giggle.

Much in the way talking about the small things had come easily, they were both actively avoiding talking about the hard things, especially the events during the War. Hermione had yet to broach the subject; she was struggling to talk about it at all. She didn’t want to burst the delicate bubble they were residing in; she found she enjoyed being around Draco, when he wasn’t being a prat, he was amicable. He could actually be charming, funny, sweet, and easy to open up to.

Though she had been able to come to terms with these discoveries, there was a part of her that was still extremely hesitant to trust that Draco was interested in actually being with her; she was having trouble believing that he was sincere, or that she truly wanted romance with him. Her body would protest urgently when she had these thoughts and that was precisely what held her back. She could not decide if she truly was falling for him, or if it was the mate in her urging her to do so.

Draco’s grumbled reply brought her back to the present.

“I’m fine,” he answered quietly, keeping his head down, refusing to look at her.

Hermione instantly became skeptical; Draco would normally come back to the common room with a smile on his face. He was also avoiding her gaze, as if he didn’t want her to look at him.

Hermione stood and walked over to him. He tried to rush past her, but she grabbed his soft hand, and he stopped dead in his tracks. She tugged at his hand softly, and he finally turned to face her. When his face came into view, Hermione gasped.

Litter along Draco’s jaw were bruises. Both of his eyes were blackened, and his lip was split. Carefully, so as not to hurt him, she cradled his face so that she could get a better look at his injuries. Anger coursed through her, and a desperate need rose in her to defend and protect her mate. A slight growl escaped her throat, surprising them both.

“What happened,” Hermione grit out through clenched teeth.

Draco had the intelligence to look slightly scared, but reluctantly answered her anyway, “I was on my way back to the dorm, and I felt a hard blow on the back of my head,” Draco murmured quietly.

Hermione’s fists clenched as he continued, looking at the floor, determined not to look at her, “The blow knocked me to the ground, and I rolled over onto my back.  I-I was trying to get up.” Draco’s voice cracked and Hermione’s heart broke. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“As I tried to sit up, two sets of hands grabbed me and held me down. A third person swung at me and connected with my face. Before I knew it, fists and feet were flying at me from every direction. I kept begging them to stop… I just wanted it to stop.” Draco finished in a whisper.

Tears were rolling down Hermione’s face now, and she pulled Draco to her gently, trying to comfort him to the best of her ability. His arms came around her, and her sadness was, yet again, replaced by white hot fury.

“We need to go straight to McGonagall,” Hermione stated firmly.

“No,” Draco stated firmly, “I don’t want anyone to know about this,” he explained weakly.

“And why the hell not?” Hermione questioned in anger, “This is so ridiculous! You were ATTACKED. The violence and the hatred was supposed to end with that BLOODY WAR!” Hermione roared, throwing her hands in the air.

“Granger…” Draco attempted to interject, but it was no use.

“I did not lay my life on the line, stay in hiding for months, deal with Ronald’s pathetic sniveling and Harry’s mood swings, fight for my right to be recognized as a person when it shouldn’t have been in question in the _first place_ , I didn’t lose my parents—” Hermione choked on a sob when she mentioned her parents.

Draco froze. Surely, he hadn’t heard her correctly. She had lost her parents?

Guilt surged through him, sure it was somehow his fault. If had just kept his mouth shut, if he had made it to his dorm room before she could question him, he could have avoided causing her pain.

Draco had not known that her parents were dead. He knew that the Dark Lord had been adamant about finding the Grangers, in hopes that they would lure Hermione out of hiding, bringing Harry with her. Other than hearing the initial order to track her parents down, Draco had heard nothing else regarding the Grangers.

Bringing himself back to the present, he tried to decide how to approach the matter. What would she be comfortable with? Would she allow him to hold her? Would she want that? Doubts swirled in Draco’s mind while Hermione stood there shaking. The second Draco made the conscious decision to move towards Hermione and wrap her in his arms, her sad eyes met his tormented ones.

“I’m going to head to bed, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said quietly, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

“Hermione wait—” Draco protested, reaching towards her.

Before he could grab her, she was rushing up the stairs and slamming her door. Draco sighed heavily, and dropped his head. He wandered over to the couch in front of the fire and threw himself down. Dropping his head in his hands, he sighed heavily in defeat.

~

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she felt as though she had barely slept. Her wand was vibrating and ringing shrilly in her ear. Groaning, she slapped her hand down on her bedside table, and slowly sat up, looking around her room. With a heavy sigh, she crawled out of bed to ready herself for her day.

Deciding to forego a shower, in interest of avoiding Draco after her outburst that had surely freaked him out, she pulled on her school robes with reluctance. Checking out her reflection in the mirror, she nodded in a satisfaction. It would have to do, given how tired she was.

Tiptoeing towards the door, she peaked down the stairs into the common room to see if Draco was waiting for her. Hermione secretly chastised herself for being such a coward, she was a war hero for Godric’s sakes, but she simply couldn’t face him after the spectacle she had created. Surely, he thought her too emotional, or even questioned why she cared. And why did she? Malfoy had tormented plenty of people during his formative years, Hermione being one of his prime victims, why was she enraged that he had gotten a taste of his own medicine last night?

Hermione winced as guilt struck her heart. She knew exactly why. Hermione was a firm believer in justice and fairness. There was no doubt about that, but above all, she was a believer in humanity. If they lost their humanity, where did that leave them in the midst of the aftermath of a war fought to defend the very concept of it?

Draco deserved a second chance as much as any of the others. The sole purpose of fighting and winning the war was to solidify the concept that they were all _human_ and deserved to be treated as such.

Shaking free of her thoughts, she wandered out into the common room, having determined that Draco was not there. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she clambered out of the portrait hole and set out for the Great Hall.

“Hey, ‘Mione!” she heard someone call out behind her. Turning around, she came face to face with Neville.

“Hello, Neville,” she murmured with a warm smile. She slowed her pace so that Neville could catch up with her.

With Neville’s long strides, it didn’t take him long to reach her. He greeted her with an equally warm smile, and inquired, “How are you, Hermione?”

“I’m doing just fine, Neville, how are you doing? How are you feeling about your classes?” Hermione inquired.

“I think I’ll survive Herbology and Transfiguration, but you know that Potions has never been my strong suit,” he joked and nudged her playfully.

Hermione giggled and answered in turn, “We all knew that the moment you tried to brew your first potion.”

Neville laughed good-naturedly and slung a casual, friendly arm around her shoulders, “With friends like you to help me, I’m sure I can manage to scrape through the year.”

~

Draco was running late. He despised running late; it was a trait that was beaten out of him at a young age. If you were not 15 minutes early to everything, you were decidedly late.

As he was rounding the corner he heard a distinct shout.

“Hey ‘Mione!”

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, and flattened himself against the wall. The Veela inside him was humming in approval, and a heady intoxicant flowed in Draco’s blood. His breathing increased rapidly, and he fought to quiet it.

Peering around the corner, he saw her. Her beautiful chestnut hair flowed down her back in natural curls, and her scent wafted towards him, filling his nostrils. He sighed in content.

Neville Longbottom’s voice once again shattered the trance that Malfoy was captured in.

“How are you, Hermione?”

Draco growled and tried to calm himself down. He had been making progress with Hermione, and it would not do to let his Veela attack one of her friends just for talking to her.

At least, that was what he told himself, until he saw him put an arm around her shoulders.

He immediately felt his fangs elongate, and his fingernails dug into his palms. He had to physically shove himself against the wall to keep from leaping at Longbottom, especially after he heard Hermione giggle and continue down the hall with him.

Breaking from his trance once they were out of his earshot, his slid down the wall, practically gasping for air. He hung his head in his hands.

This girl was going to be the death of him.

~

By the time lunch rolled around, Draco was sure he was going to lose every bit of cool he had. He was sure that Longbottom was doing nothing out of the ordinary, but he might as well have been dry humping his mate for how his Veela was acting. He felt as though he was being torn apart from the inside, like his Veela was trying to claw his way out.

When they finally made it to Transfiguration, Draco had permanently scarred him palms, he was sure of it. His fists were sore from clenching all day, and his lip hurt where his fangs had punctured it.

In short, Hermione was unknowingly driving him nuts. She wasn’t even doing it on purpose, that he was sure of. She had no way of knowing the effect she was having on him.

A giggle erupted from the doorway that set Draco’s teeth on edge. Hermione and Longbottom walked through the door, along with the young Weaselette. They all sat down in the front, giving Draco an uninterrupted view of Longbottom shamelessly flirting with _his_ mate.

Draco couldn’t help but zero in on Longbottom’s hand as it rested on Hermione’s shoulder. He growled, and he was certain he would have jumped up and ripped Longbottom’s arm off right then and there had Professor McGonagall not entered the classroom to begin their lesson.

Draco was sure he was paranoid at this point. Surely Draco was not witnessing the Goody-Two-Shoes bookworm continuing to whisper and laugh quietly with Longbottom after the lesson began. Hermione had always placed her education above everything else, and here Longbottom was, distracting her from what she loved the most.

Draco almost jumped up again to claw Longbottom’s eyes out with his bare hands when he watched him lean over to whisper something in Hermione’s ear. Draco’s entire body was twitching from the effort not to attack Hermione’s friend. He knew that it would significantly set their relationship back, and she would never forgive him.

Draco lost all rational thought related to self-restraint the minute Longbottom’s hand landed on Hermione’s knee mid-chuckle.

Later, he would say he didn’t remember bursting out of his chair.

Later, he would say he didn’t remember letting a feral growl escape his throat.

Later, he would say he certainly didn’t remember yelling at Longbottom.

“Stop it,” he bit out, “STOP touching her!”

The entire class stopped dead in their tracks and turned to blink at him in shock. His eyes zeroed in on Longbottom, who had the decency to look terrified, much to Draco’s quiet satisfaction. His eyes moved to McGonagall, who, for once in his time knowing her, seemed to be too shocked to utter a word. Finally, his eyes came to rest on Hermione, who seemed to be the only one not staring at him in shock or terror.

She was furious.

Draco knew this, and not just because he could feel the turbulent yet deliberate flow of her fury coursing through his veins, but because he had been at the receiving end of Hermione Granger’s anger plenty of times in his life, enough to know that that life could very well soon be over.

However, before Hermione could exact Draco’s sure demise, McGonagall seemed to come to her senses.

“Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall screeched, “What is the meaning of this utterly ridiculous and inappropriate outburst?”

Draco at least had the decency to look chagrined, before hastily grabbing his things and rushing out the door. Once outside the classroom, he slid down the wall for the second time that day, and he looked at his shaky hands in frustration.

What was he going to _do_? That frustrating woman was driving him to an early grave, and after his outburst in the classroom, he wasn’t so sure she wasn’t going to personally put him there quicker. Dropping his head to his knees, he sighed heavily in defeat.

~

Hermione was furious. How dare he embarrass her like that? She marched the Great Hall for dinner, fully intending to approach the Slytherin table and give him a piece of her mind.

But when she got there, Draco was no where to be found. Rounding on the opposite side of the table, she saw Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini staring at her and talking amongst themselves. Stealing herself and mustering up some of that famous Gryffindor courage, she stalked towards the pair.

“Where’s Malfoy?” she harshly questioned them, with far more courage than she was actually feeling.

Blaise had the decency to roll his eyes and decline to her answer her, which was far more civil than she was expecting. Pansy, however, reacted with the same amount of malice she was expecting from both of them.

“How should we know? He’s probably off defending blood traitors and Mudbloods like you, you disgusting excuse for a creature.” Pansy spat at her.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes and stalked to the Gryffindor table. She should have known that trying to talk to those two would be useless.

“Hey ‘Mione!” she heard as she approached the table, “Are you okay?”

Hermione glanced up and met the eyes of Neville, staring at her curiously.

“Yeah,” she sighed as she sat down at the table, “I’m fine.”

Neville eyed her curiously but didn’t question her further.

“Did you guys see Malfoy’s outburst today,” Neville turned to ask Luna and Ginny, giving Hermione her piece.

Ginny quickly made eye contact with Hermione before turning to Neville and answering.

“Yes, I wonder what had him so very upset,” Ginny questioned in an exaggerated curious voice.

Hermione promptly kicked her under the table, earning a glare from her red-head friend.

“He did seem quick upset,” Luna said dreamily, “but it is the month of the dragon after all, so it would make sense that he’s on edge.”

They all stared at Luna blankly, before Neville answered her.

“Yes, love, I’m sure that’s it,” he murmured, placing a protective arm around her shoulders.

Hermione smiled, happy for the young couple. They had all been through so much, and it was so great to see something so beautiful come out of it.

She spoke up, “I’m sure he’s just feeling the stress of the last year of school, just like the rest of us,” she reasoned.

Neville gave her a suspicious and disbelieving look before slowly answering.

“Yeah… I suppose that could be true.” He said slowly.

Ginny gave her a knowing look from across the table, but said nothing.

After an awkward pause, the table returned to the normal chatter of everyday life, and Hermione gave a sigh of relief.

This man was going to be the death of her, she was sure of it.

~

After dinner, Hermione renewed her purposeful stride and stormed into the common room, prepared to find Draco there, so she could finally confront him.

What she wasn’t prepared for, was Draco sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, in such a contrite position. Before she could allow herself to feel bad however, she reminded herself of the burning embarrassment he had thrust upon her this afternoon, and she steeled her resolve. Throwing her bag down, she marched to stand in front of him.

“What the hell was that this afternoon, Malfoy?” she spat with her hands on her hips.

“So, it’s back to “Malfoy” now, is it?” he drawled sarcastically, head still in hands.

Though it was quite unbecoming and childlike, Hermione stopped her foot with her next reply.

“Damn it, Malfoy, I’ll not deal with the cheek! I want an answer!”

He finally looked up at her, and Hermione gasped. His eye had turned the bright shade of silver again, and he looked angry.

“How about you give me some answers?” he growled angrily, standing up and towering over her.

For her part, Hermione did take a few steps back. Malfoy really had gained height in the last few years. She couldn’t help but notice how much taller he was than her; she barely came to his shoulder. He had also filled out handsomely. His arms were bigger, and his shoulders had broadened.

Shaking herself free of her wandering thoughts, she glared up at him and straightened up, trying to make herself seem just a little bit taller.

“What kind of explanation could I possibly owe you?” she questioned indignantly.

He growled at her and spat his reply.

“Why were you flirting with Longbottom all day?” he seethed.

Hermione snapped her gaze to his silver, swirling pools.

“F-Flirting?” she sputtered, “what on earth gave you such a ridiculous idea?”

“Don’t play coy, I saw you today,” he sneered, looking very much like his old self, “having your hands all over him, giggling flirtatiously at everything he says—”

Before she could control herself, Hermione shoved one of his shoulders.

“How” shove “dare” shove “you!” she screeched, shoving his shoulder with each word, “You don’t get to accuse me of anything! I’m not your girlfriend, Draco, and you have no control over me!

Draco let of a frustrated growl and grabbed her shoulders, shoving her against the wall nearest to the fireplace.

Upon feeling her back hit the wall, Hermione let out a gasp, remembering what happened the last time they ended up in this position. Her eyes flew to Draco’s and she bit her lip when she saw that his fangs had shown themselves.

His eyes zeroed in on her lips and he let out a moan when he found her lip trapped between her teeth. He dragged his eyes back to hers and they darkened.

“I may not control you,” he whispered darkly, “but you are _mine_ , and mine alone.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but her breath caught in her throat when his head dropped to her neck, and he ran his lips over the vein, inhaling deeply.

“Gods, you smell so good, mea lux,” he murmured near her ear. She sighed happily upon hearing the endearment. The mate in her hummed happily.

Without thinking, Hermione moaned in pleasure; having him so close, yet so far away was pure torture. His masculine scent filled her senses and invaded her mind in the most amazing way. She couldn’t think straight.

Finally, she came to her senses and pushed on his shoulder, lightly this time.

“Draco,” she said breathlessly, “we need to talk about this.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his head back and met her gaze. She was relieved to find that his eyes had turned their normal shade of grey, and the fangs had sheathed themselves.

“You’re probably right, darling,” he sighed shakily.

Hermione smiled at his pet name, and put her hand on his cheek.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said warmly, coming to her own private decision.

Draco immediately felt calm invade his senses, but he didn’t back away from her. The Veela in him wouldn’t allow him to separate himself from his mate.

Accepting that he wasn’t going to let her go, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.

“I need you to tell me what happened today,” she murmured softly.

Sighing, Draco answered her, somewhat reluctantly.

“Hermione… seeing you with any male…even if it is Longbottom… it drives the Veela in me… it drives _me_ insane. I care about you. I want you. I need you… and it’s hard to even see you around other guys,” he finished with a whisper, dropping his head.

Hermione bit her lip and stared at him. She had never realized what her actions were doing to him. She had never been in this situation before, she didn’t know how to act. She didn’t want to cause him any unnecessary pain, but she was not sure that she could allow herself to trust him enough to be with him. To actually trust him with her heart.

“Draco…” she began uncertainly.

Before she could continue her rejection, Draco interrupted her.

“Hermione, I know I am not the kind of man you deserve. I know I’m not the sweet, doting, loving man you should be with, because believe me, love, I know that’s what you should have…” he trailed off, biting his lip.

“But, Hermione,” he continued, tightening his arms around her, “I know I won’t be the guy that tells you you’re beautiful, even though you are, or the guy that showers you with gifts, even though you deserve it, because I know that’s not who you are. You want effort. You want stability. You want an equal. You want someone that will defend you when you need it, fight next to you when you need it, and put you in your place when you’re being ridiculous,” he smiled affectionately at her, “so, please, give me a chance to be that for you. Let me take care of you. Let me be with you.” He pleaded with her.

Hermione was breathless, hearing him tell her exactly what she had always wanted in a man, in a partner. Her heart was pounding, and she could barely breath. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine what a relationship with him would be like. In her mind’s eye, she saw long nights cuddling on the couch in front of the fire, walks by the lake while having intellectual debates, acceptance, warmth, and support.

She saw home.

So, without giving herself time to overthink, she answered him with a smile.

“Okay.”

**A/N: Okay, so again, I just want to tell you guys I’m so sorry for how long it has taken. Though it may be slowly going, I do have the entire rest of this story planned out, so it will be finished. As much as I love writing, it can’t be the only thing I focus on. If it upsets you that I won’t be able to update every day, then you need to find a new author to follow. That being said, I have made this chapter extra-long for y’all to make up for taking so incredibly long. Hope you enjoy!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Okay, I know I am the worst kind of person for making y’all wait so incredibly long for an update. I really, truly hate myself for it, but school has just been absolutely crazy. Great news: I made it into graduate school! Getting everything ready to start was a long process that took up most of my time, along with ensuring I graduate in May like I am supposed to.**

**I know that it is no excuse for leaving you guys without any word for several months, but it simply had to be taken care of. Like I said at the end of the last chapter, I do have the story all planned out and outlined, so it will be finished, even if it takes me years (though I hope it won’t because I have already been playing with the idea of this story for 7 years).**

**Also, several of you commented that my story says it’s complete in the tags. However, when I go to look at it, it says work in progress on my end. I am not sure what is happening, or if people are just confused, but I wanted to clear it up: to me it says work in progress.**

**Regardless, here is the chapter you all have been waiting on!**

Everyone was staring.

Draco knew they would, but it didn’t serve to calm down his own nerves or his Veela’s protective nature. He tightened his fingers around Hermione’s more delicate hand as they walked to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He had to give it to his headstrong mate: she was not to be trifled with. Draco was used to people being ashamed of him; he would not have been surprised if at any second Hermione ripped her hand from his and gave him a sneer of disgust. Instead, Hermione held her head high and glared at anyone who looked as though they would give their opinion on the matter.

Once they reached the grandiose doors of the Great Hall, Draco stopped dead in his tracks and pulled Hermione to stand in front of him. She blinked at him in confusion, and before she could question what he was doing, he interrupted her.

“Granger, you don’t have to go in there with me. I’ve already seen the ridiculous glares and heard the whispers that you have already had to endure thus far, and it’s not really fair to you to have to deal with that. I’m going to let you go in ahead of me, so less people talk.”

Hermione stared at him blankly for a few seconds longer before her face broke out into one of annoyance.

“Draco,” she emphasized his first name, “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be with you. So let them stare. Let them talk. Let them think what they want. People have already seen, and everyone will know soon anyway.”

She pulled him closer and kissed him softly on the lips. When she drew back, she kept her face very close to his and looked him dead in the eye.

“I didn’t fight in a bloody war for everyone to still be divided and sit behind lines. I didn’t fight for hatred to still exist on either side. I don’t give a damn what anyone has to say, I am happy,” she whispered vehemently.

Draco looked at her in awe before her tightened his arms around her. Finally, if for no other reason that to feel like his normal self again, he smirked and let out a sarcastic quip.

“Alright, Granger, if you want to give them a show, we’ll give them a show. I doubt anyone can help but be impressed by the Golden Girl’s ability to tame her very own Death Eater.”

She giggled as he grasped her hand firmly and finally walked through the doors to the Great Hall.

As he suspected, the minute they entered the room everyone grew silent, and thousands of eyes met theirs, drawn open in shock. Hermione met them all with a challenging look, and Draco simply tried to look straight ahead at the professor’s table. He was grateful, because McGonagall, for her part, just looked annoyed at the disruption than shocked.

Hermione turned to Draco and murmured softly to him, “Would you like to sit with me at Gryffindor’s table?”

The scowl he sent her way let her know just how distasteful the idea was to him, but then he glanced at the Slytherin table. Pansy was shooting daggers at Hermione, and even Blaise, with his normally nonchalant attitude, looked puzzled and had a furrowed brow.

Draco had a decision to make. As much as he despised Gryffindors, with their constant need to meddle and see the good in everything, he was even less inclined to sit alone at his own house’s table, because he knew that there was no way, especially now, that any of them would welcome him with open arms.

Finally, reluctantly, he nodded and followed her lead to sit down next to her friends. The Great Hall was still deadly quiet by the time they reached them, and Draco finally had enough.

“Don’t you all have something better to do?” he drawled in a loud voice, attempting to sound bored with just the right amount of annoyance.

Gradually, the eyes in the Great Hall left Draco and Hermione, and the dull roar of noise grew. Draco cautiously sat down next to Hermione, grabbing for a piece of toast, deciding that he had lost his appetite. Draco knew that he always exuded a level of confidence and arrogance that came naturally with the Malfoy name, but he didn’t like being examined. He was a private person, and he hated it when people stared at him like he belonged in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._

Hermione’s friends were all trying to discreetly observe Draco, with the exception of Longbottom. He was staring at Draco, mouth agape, a look of confusion gracing his features.

Hermione, not looking up from her own toast and porridge, tried to casually start up a conversation with Longbottom to distract him.

“Neville, how are the Devils Snare plants fairing in the greenhouse. Will they be ready for the second stage of growth by Thursday’s lesson?”

Longbottom stared at Draco for several more seconds before his eyes shifted to Hermione’s expectant gaze.

“Y-yes, they should be,” Neville answered shortly, before flitting his eyes back to Draco. Draco gave him a half-hearted sneer in an attempt to scare him away, which only served to widen his eyes.

Giving up, Draco aggressively bit into his toast, before looking across the table and meeting the eyes of the Weaselette. She smirked at him and gave him a wink, causing Draco to almost drop his toast in shock. She knew.

Draco narrowed his eyes at Hermione, who had watched the interaction and had the decency to look chagrined. Draco could faintly feel her guilt.

While Draco was slightly annoyed, he found that he could not be mad at Hermione. He should have been terrified; should the news get out that there was a male Veela, an ex-Death Eater and a Malfoy no less, there would surely be uproar amongst the Wizarding Community. But, he found that he surprisingly trusted Hermione and her judgement; he knew that if she trusted the youngest Weasley to keep their secret, she would take it to the grave.

Finally, it seemed that Longbottom could no longer keep his thoughts to himself.

“Hermione, you know I adore you and I trust your judgment, but why is Malfoy sitting at our table?”

Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas nodded and gave Draco nasty glares.

“Why, Longbottom, are you talking about said handsome, clever, and wonderful wizard, as if he is not even here?” Draco said haughtily while straightening his already-straight tie.

Weaslette snorted into her pumpkin juice, while Finnigan and Thomas scowled.

“Ye wish,” Finnigan sneered at him in his thick Scottish accent.

Before a fight could break out, Hermione slammed her palm on the table, making goblets shutter. Draco jumped and looked at his mate, who looked furious and agitated. He smirked. He wished the best of luck to Finnigan, Thomas, and Longbottom. His mate was not to be messed with. He smirked faded when she turned her stern expression on his as well.

Draco was suddenly very interested in his own pumpkin juice.

“Neville, while I respect your concern, as well and Seamus’s and Dean’s, I am a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Draco has been perfectly respectful and has given you no reason to question his presence here.”

Neville furrowed his nose in disgust and Draco smirked at him.

Hermione turned and met Draco’s eyes with a stern set to her jaw. She raised her eyebrow.

“Draco, darling, you better behave yourself too,” she said sweetly, bringing her palm to his face. The Veela inside him purred in delight and he had to fight to keep his eyelids from fluttering. Longbottom’s mouth was agape once again. The young Weasley had a shit eating grin on her face; she was enjoying this immensely.

“We wouldn’t want you to get over-excited like you did the other night and make a mess of yourself,” Hermione finished, still in her sweet voice, feigning concern.

Draco’s eyes shot open and met hers in shock and outrage. He knew she was referring to the incident with McLaggen, but the rest of the Gryffindors did not. He knew what they would be thinking instead, and he knew damn well that Hermione did as well.

He snapped his jaw closed and turned to glower at his toast, sulking. Hermione smirked at her own toast and turned to take a bite. Draco simply couldn’t leave it; he had to get back at her somehow.

He leaned in so he could whisper, loud enough for her to hear, but quiet enough that no one else could, “Oh sweetheart,” he crooned, certain his Veela was making his voice drip like honey on purpose. Hermione stiffened, and her breath caught. “I’ve never had any complaints about, what did you say it was? Being over-excited? You can rest assured that I always bring satisfaction before letting my excitement be known.”

When he pulled away with a smirk on his face, Hermione’s face was red, and he could feel her embarrassment. He also felt another emotion. Jealousy? Granger was jealous? His smirk grew into a full-on grin, and Hermione glared at him through her embarrassment.

Hermione could feel the male satisfaction pulsing through him, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling at him. She didn’t want to bring any more attention to them than they already had. She could not believe how much one little action and just a few little words could send feelings of desire so strong she could barely stand it straight to her core.

Hermione continued to munch on her toast quietly through breakfast, annoyance rolling off of her in waves. What made him think he could behave in such a manner? Did he think he was the only one who could play at this game?

 She couldn’t let him get away with this.

She wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction.

 Hermione grinned triumphantly, a plan already hatching in her head.

Draco knew that he should be cautious. He could feel the smugness coming from his mate the entire time they were walking together to Potions. Had it not been the stares and the gossip still happening, he would have spent more time mulling over why Hermione could possibly feel so smug.

When they got to Potions, conversation came to an abrupt halt. Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Draco’s hand, pulling them towards their work bench. After several minutes of near quiet and continued whispers, Professor Slughorn entered the classroom to begin their lesson.

“Hello, my wonderful, bright students! I trust you have all done the required reading and have figured out what potion we will be working on for the next few months!”

Hermione’s hand, as usual, was the first to shoot up in the air.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Slughorn crowed with delight.

“Amortentia.” She answered confidently.

Slughorn beamed at her. “Correct!”

Hermione blossomed under his approval. Draco looked at her from the corner of his eye. Instead of his usual annoyance at her incessant need to know everything and show everyone as such, he felt an unfamiliar burst of pride. His mate was extremely intelligent and had fought tooth and nail to show that she belonged in this world. She had proven him and so many others wrong on numerous occasions.

He could not help the large smile he was directing her way. She looked up at him, realizing that he was staring and gave him an odd smile.

Hermione could not understand why Malfoy was staring at her in such a way. She gave him a funny look, until she felt a euphoric feeling coming from him.

He was proud of her.

Hermione beamed back at him and turned her attention back to the front.

Draco tried to focus on the front of the class where Slughorn had unveiled a cauldron of Amortentia. He was talking about the ingredients and the procedure, which was going to prove to be a long one. As Draco was writing down the complex instructions, the fumes from the potion wafted back towards him, smelling much the same as they did during his sixth year. The hint of cinnamon, old books, and springtime assaulted his senses, and the Veela inside him jumped in anticipation.

The last time he had experienced this, he had been much too preoccupied with dark, churning thoughts, that he had dismissed the smells as an annoyance. Now that he was smelling them, he couldn’t help but think about the irony.

His entire common room was a combination of these smells.

Even before he knew he was a Veela, the potion was telling him that she was right in front of him, and he had been too blind to see it.

He glanced over at Hermione to see that she had a confused look on her face. He nudged her softly and gave her a questioning look. She smiled and shook her head. ‘I’m okay,’ she mouthed. He hesitated, then smiled, turning his eyes once again to the toad-like professor.

He and Hermione sat in comfortable proximity to one another for the rest of the class. She didn’t say much about her strange reaction, and Draco had forgotten about it by the time Slughorn dismissed them for the day. Grabbing her hand, he escorted her to their next class, and for the first time that day, was able to ignore the furious, curious, and chastising looks of the other students.

After dinner was over, Hermione told Malfoy she would meet him in the common room to go do homework together, after she stopped by the library for some books she had wanted to read about Veelas.

She was making her way back to the common room, a stupid smile on her face. If someone would have told her years ago that she would have been thinking of Draco Malfoy, the stupid smirk he always had, the sarcasm, the quick retorts, and smiling she would have told them to check into St. Mungo’s.

However, here she was, thinking not only about those things, but about the way his brow furrowed when he was slaving over a particularly hard essay, the way he looked when he had just gotten up in the morning, the way he smiled when he was reading a rather amusing passage in one of his favorite novels. A giddy feeling that she had not felt since Ron, and even then, it had not been as strong, rose in her stomach, and she could not control the giggle that escaped.

Her mind turned to Potions that day and the new potion they were to be working on. She was familiar with it, as it was included in the class during her 6th year, but they had never brewed it, and it was going to prove to be difficult. She had no doubts that her and Draco could handle it; they were both the top of their class.

She furrowed her brow as she thought about the scents that she had smelled. They were no different. She still smelt freshly mowed grass, mint toothpaste, and parchment. There was a time that she was sure it meant that she was fated for Ron, and that made her so very happy. Now, she was concerned. Did it still mean that she had feelings for him or he for she?

Filing the concern into the back of her mind, she came to the common room door, muttered the password, and clambered through. Draco was already sitting at their table, supplies spread around him. The smell of fresh parchment hit her and she smiled at him, greeting him with a small peck. Though it had only be 24 hours since they had made the huge step in their relationship, she felt as though she had known him this way for centuries.

“Are you ready to get started, love?” he asked her with a grin.

Hermione, remembering her brilliant plan for revenge, smiled and said, “Yes, darling, just give me one second.”

She practically skipped to her room and shut the door behind her.

Draco stared in apprehension at her door. He could feel her mischievous feelings, and he had a terrible sense of foreboding.

Inside her room, Hermione dug around in her trunk till she found what she had been looking for. The last summer, Ginny and her had gone shopping, and Ginny had bought her a short, silk nighty as a joke, but Hermione had secretly loved the feeling of the soft emerald fabric. Slipping out of her school clothes, she donned the beautiful gown and let her curls fall down her back.

Stepping out into the common room, she snuck up behind Draco and wrapped her arms around him. His hand came up to caress her arm, and she looked at her out of the corner of his eye with a smile.

He froze.

Draco whipped his head the rest of the way around and took in his beautiful mate.

She was dressed in a beautiful, and oh so _very_ short silk and lace nighty. Her long, tan legs went on for miles, her long chestnut hair framed her face and flowed over her soft chest, where her nipples were hardening into peaks from the cold. His breath caught.

And she was in Slytherin green.

The little minx.

She would surely be the death of him.

Draco had no idea how he managed to not come in his pants right then and there.

Hermione grinned.

“Is something the matter, dear?” she questioned lightly, emphasizing the endearment.

Draco tried to swallow and found that he was unable to do so on the first few tries. When he finally found his voice, it was hoarse.

“No, of course not.” He answered.

He would play her game. He would play it well.

Draco tried to concentrate on homework. He really did. But with Hermione uncrossing and recrossing her long legs, making the nighty slide further up, he couldn’t make himself concentrate on crush beetles’ wings.

He tried to distract her just as much. He tried running his hand down her arm or up her leg absentmindedly, but she would just smile at him, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And Draco had no doubt that she did.

When Hermione got up to peruse the bookshelf for a specific book, and stood on her toes, letting the nighty come up just under her arse, Draco could no longer take it.

He got up and began stalking towards her like she was prey. When he turned her around and pushed her up against the shelves, she let out a little shriek, followed by a laugh. She smirked at him, teasing him.

Draco growled and felt his fangs elongate.

Hermione bit her lip, and Draco was done for.

He smashed his lips to hers, picking her up and pressing her harder against the shelves. She let out a cross between a gasp and a moan, and he took the opportunity to let his tongue play with hers. She was panting, tightening her legs around him, and Draco was going mad. He didn’t think he had ever been this hard. He ground his erection into her center and she let out a low moan that enticed the Veela inside him, and it was all Draco could do to keep from taking her right there against the bookshelf.

He resurfaced for air and found her staring at him, breathing heavy, with wide eyes.

He smirked at her, and murmured, “You did this on purpose didn’t you, my little minx?”

She grinned at him, and answered in an attempted nonchalant manner, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, my dear.”

Hermione wiggled in an attempt to get down, and Draco let her, keeping his arms around her. He kissed her forehead, her nose, and attempted to kiss her lips, but she pressed her fingers to his mouth. She gave him a smirk that any Slytherin would be proud of, and wiggled free of his grasp, walking back to the table.

Taking her time, Hermione bent over the desk and gathered her things, giving Draco a nice, long look at her backside.

Draco’s mouth was watering, and he wanted nothing more than to run his tongue all over the exposed flesh. He was just about to voice what he thought to be a wonderful suggestion, when he noticed she was walking towards her bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” he demanded with a strained voice and strained voice.

Hermione turned back around and slowly ran her gaze up Draco’s body, pausing longer than necessary on his length, before meeting his eyes.

“I’m tired, darling, and I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Sweet dreams,” she murmured blowing him a kiss.

Draco was barely able to hear the sound of her laughter over the growl that ripped from his throat.

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter went in a direction I did not plan for, I just could not resist. When I wrote my outline, I totally planned something different, which means the story will likely be longer than I originally planned.**

**That being said, I will be writing ahead 3 or 4 chapters before I post this one, so I am hoping that updates will be coming sooner than they have been. I know I am awful, but I am in my senior year of college, and things have been so busy. I just finished my senior thesis this week, so that is why I am hoping to have several chapters written and eventually posted soon. Thank you to all my faithful readers!**

**One more thing: Since it is now summer, and I have no more school, I am taking one-shot or short story requests. If I love it enough, I may even turn it into a full-length fic. Comment the idea or private message me, and I will attempt to publish it as soon as I can. Give me ideas, guys! I am DYING to write now that I finally have the time.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Okay guys, welcome to My Savior-Revamped! As I was finishing the last chapter, I realized that I had deviated from my original outline… and I liked it better. I went back and read over my previous outline, and I absolutely hated everything about it. The conflict was juvenile, there was not enough build up, and I just wanted… more. I almost completely scrapped the entire thing, except for the fact that I have been working on this for almost 8 years, and I just love the concept so very much. So instead of scrapping it, I stayed up for 3 more hours and completely reconfigured the story line. I am ready, and much more convinced that it will be spectacular. I am much happier with the direction the story will be going, away from my previous plans.**

**Without further ado, here is Chapter 13!**

As the weeks passed, Hermione was relieved to find that her and Draco were slowly becoming old news, and the students of Hogwarts were on to greener, brighter gossip. There were still whispers, much to their irritation, and occasionally someone would point. Draco would simply glower at them or growl, and they would scuttle away.

He may have been a Malfoy, and they may have fallen slightly from grace, but he could still put the fear of Merlin into the younger years. Hermione, of course, scolded him.

Half-heartedly at least.

The truth was that she was tired of being pointed at and being the center of attention. She had had enough of that after the War, and even beforehand being part of Harry Potter’s Golden Trio. She really just wanted to relax and enjoy the company of her friends and boyfriend.

And did she ever enjoy his presence.

Ever since her little prank in the common room, Draco had been humbled and on his best behavior. He was ever the gentleman, making sure he opened doors for her and had his arm ready for her hand when he was walking next to her.

In front of others that is.

Behind closed doors, Draco was a right beast, and his snogging skills were definitely something fashioned from the Gods. The way he cradled her face in his large hands while his delectable tongue explored her mouth was something that definitely kept Hermione up at night.

Unfortunately, it was the only thing that kept her up at night.

She knew that she was not ready for sex, and Draco was always willing to stop when she was not ready to go any further. Though she knew he was ready for more, she also knew that he would be patient and would never push her out of her comfort zone.

The thought slightly annoyed Hermione.

Her body was craving to have more from the Slytherin, but she was cautious. She knew that the deeper they went with their attachment, the closer his Veela would be to being ready to mate. She knew Draco was already struggling, and Hermione got anxious when she thought about the inevitable.

She knew where this relationship was headed, and she knew that eventually they would need to seal the bond. However, she wanted this relationship to progress at a semi-normal pace. She didn’t want to force any feelings between the two, though she knew that they were blossoming well enough on their own.

Hermione had been reading up on Veela’s and had been relieved at some of the information that she had found. She had excitably run into the common room and plopped herself on Draco’s lap, anxious to tell him what she had found. It appeared that Draco was also in the dark about his nature, as his family had not had a true Veela in it for centuries.

“Draco, look what I found!” Hermione said excitedly.

Draco, looking surprised, but curious, answered with a slow drawl, “What is it, love?”

“I was doing just a bit of light reading,” Hermione said, opening the large, old tome cradled in her hands.

Draco scoffed, making Hermione swat him on the back of the head. He cleared his throat and tried to answer as solemnly as possible.

“Go on, mea lux,” he murmured.

She giggled at the endearment and continued, “Veela mates are free!” she burst out excitedly.

Draco gave her an odd look and answered her slowly, “Well, yes, I suppose they are, given that they are usually witches or wizards, and this is the 20th century.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued on as if she wasn’t ready to smack him with the book next.

“No, I mean, they are not powerless against their Veela’s.” she said, as if that answered every single question Draco had.

Draco quirked his eyebrow at her, “And this was a concern because…?” he said slowly, not sure what she was getting at.

Hermione’s eyes dropped, and she no longer looked excited. She began mumbling.

“I was worried,” she began, fiddling with her hands, “I didn’t want my choice in this relationship to be taken away. I didn’t want feelings to develop because they had to, I wanted them to happen because we _wanted_ them to.”

She continued to twist her fingers. Draco put his fingers under her chin and pushed her face up so his eyes could meet hers.

“Hermione,” he said, suddenly deadly serious, “did you think I was going to force you to comply with this bond if it was something you did not want?”

Her wide eyes stared into his and she said quickly, “No, of course not!”

Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and gave her a look that told her to continue. Her eyes dropped again.

“It’s just…I read about what happens. To Veelas, you know, if their mate rejects them.” Her voice broke and Draco grew very still.

She swallowed and recommenced her rambling, “I know you’re probably going to make fun of my truly Gryffindor nature, but you know I would not have been able to just let you die, regardless of our history.”

Draco relaxed slightly. Her eyes met his, but his gaze was the one that dropped this time. He cleared his throat and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“And is that why you decided to give this a try? You couldn’t let me die?”

She was silent for a long time, so Draco forced himself to look up and into her eyes. She was smiling.

“No, of course not, you silly man,” she giggled. She put her hands on either side of his face and looked deep into his eyes. He sometimes hated it when she did that. He felt so exposed and laid open, like she could see into his very soul. Something he once thought no longer existed, until she caused it to awaken.

“I got to know YOU, Draco,” she whispered, her breath wafting over his face, making his pulse quicken, “The real you. Not the one your father created, not the one you hid behind during His reign, not the one you think you are. I discovered the Draco that loves knowledge as much as me, has a heart that, when shown, is massive, the Draco that threw Harry his wand in the final battle, the Draco sitting before me now,” her voice cracked.

Draco gasped slightly before lunging for her luscious lips, capturing them with his own. Hermione let out her own gasp of surprise before returning his kiss with fervor. His hands joined hers, still attached to his face, and entwined their hands. When he pulled back, he looked in to her shining eyes and gave her a genuine smile.

“Hermione, you continue to amaze me every single day. I only hope I can live up to even a fraction of the kind of man you believe me to be.”

She smiled back and let out a breathless laugh. They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying one another’s touch and affection. Finally, Draco cleared his throat.

“So, what is it specifically that you found that you wanted to show me?” he questioned her, his eyes traveling back to the book forgotten in her lap.

Hermione snapped out of her trance and looked back at the passage she had found.

“Oh, um, I found something about the way Veela mates are chosen and their place in the relationship,” she murmured.

She began reading:

_“Veela mates have historically been seen as the submissive part of Veela relationships, but the opposite is actually true. Veela mates have all the power; they have the ability to crush, destroy, or build up their Veela. Further, Veela mates not forced into any type of emotion or affection that grows from their relationship with their Veela. In fact, Veela mates are genuinely chosen based on compatible traits, likelihood of attraction, and the ability to form a soul bond with their Veela…”_ she trailed off.

Draco paused for a moment before responding, “Well, that first part sounds absolutely terrifying. What happens if they are mated to someone that is far more vindictive than you are? Could the Veela mate force their Veela to do things they don’t want to? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

Hermione nodded in agreement before answering, “I think so. It’s barbaric, because it implies that Veelas could almost be slaves to their mates should the mate choose them to be.”

Draco shuddered before replying to her, “Well, I certainly got lucky. All I got was a bleeding-heart Gryffindor with the stubbornness of a niffler after a Galleon.”

Hermione swatted him again and tried to contain her laughter.

Draco looked at her, a mischievous look in his eyes, “Oh Granger, you are going to regret that.”

Hermione squealed and hopped up, running for the safety of her room, laughing as he caught her, tackling her to the bed, and sighed in content as he pulled her close to him, feeling happier and more protected than she had in a long time.

The Saturday during weekend of Halloween dawned crisp and bright as Hermione and Draco waited in the Great Hall for the students attending the Hogsmeade trip. Draco was looking grumpy as usual, due to his not being a morning person, and Hermione, also as usual, was her chipper self, annoying the hell out of him before he had time to take in the quality of the day.

“Darling, as much as I adore you,” he grumbled, “would you please cease your incessant smiling? It’s too early to determine whether the day will be happy or not.”

Hermione giggled at him and continued to smile incandescently.

“And as much as you brighten my life, my dear,” she answered back in a sickly-sweet manner, “I must ask you to bugger off, because I have already determined that you and I will have a completely fantastic day.”

Draco harrumphed and crossed his arms, continuing to mumble about “morning people” and “fucking off” under his breath.

Hermione laughed and turned back to the Great Hall as the doors opened and students poured out, to either go about their Saturday on Hogwarts’ grounds or form a line in front of the Heads to go to Hogsmeade.

To his credit, Draco was able to step up and ensure his duties were completed by checking of students’ names as they moved towards the doors before drawing back into himself and continuing his sour mood.

Once he and Hermione ensured that every student had checked in, they began their own trek towards Hogsmeade, so that they could begin their patrol.

While being Head Boy and Girl had its perks, it also meant that they, like the prefects, had to take shifts patrolling not only the corridors, but Hogsmeade during trips as well.

Hermione did not mind the added responsibility, but Draco found it to be a thorn in his side, because he would much rather find a secluded place to snog his girlfriend senseless or go to his favorite Quidditch shop. Knowing that this added to his already bad mood, Hermione linked her small hand with his larger one and tried to give him her brightest smile. He managed a weak one back.

They strolled the streets in a comfortable silence, before Draco decided to break it, bringing up a sore subject that they tried to avoid as often as possible.

“So, has the She-Weasel heard anything from Weaselbee or Pothead?”

Hermione shot him a dirty look, knowing that he was in a bad mood, which meant that he was spoiling for a fight. She refused to give him one.

“No, nor have I.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and continued his questioning.

“They’re your supposed best friends, and they can’t even be bothered to send you one owl since your return?”

Hermione took a cleansing breath, before she decided to answer him calmly, refusing to give in to his mission for a fight.

“Draco, they’re in Auror training, so they are very busy. I highly doubt they have time to read my letters, let alone reply.”

The Veela in his bristled upon hearing the slight tone of hurt in her words before he considered her answer. He had no idea that Weasley and Potter had been accepted into Auror training; they both knew that those two were a sore subject between them, so they tried to avoid topics pertaining to them unless they were being mentioned in passing. Which, unsurprisingly, eliminated several subjects when it came to Hermione’s life.

“You never told me that that was what they were doing,” Draco said quietly, feeling guilty for subconsciously searching for a fight.

Hermione looked at him, her eyes softening. She let out a sigh.

“I know,” she admitted reluctantly, “I just know that they bother you, so I try to avoid talking about them, because I don’t want to upset you.”

Draco could not have felt like more of an ass.

He stopped, pulling at her hand to signal that he wanted her to stop as well. He pulled her around to face him and looked her in the eye.

“Hermione, I know that my history with them is a little dodgy, and that we spent the better part of our lives fighting against one another in one way or another.”

The corners of Hermione’s mouth tilted up slightly, and Draco trudged on, needing to get this out.

“But, they’re important to you, love. I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t share your life with me, even when it includes them. I knew what I was getting into, or rather my Veela did, when I chose to be with you. I know they’re always going to be there, and I am just going to have to learn to be civil, at the very least.”

Hermione’s eye shone as she threw her arms around his neck and give him a quick, yet firm kiss on his lips.

“Thank you, Draco. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

He smiled, taking her hand, he began walking again. As they enjoyed the silence once more, Draco found himself wondering about things he knew he would regret asking about but knew that he could not help but question.

“Hermione, can I ask you something?”

She turned to look at him and nodded, a curious look gracing her face.

He drew a deep breath before voicing his concern, “What ever happened between you and Weasley? Before coming back, all I knew was that you were together at the end of the last battle.”

Hermione gave him a sad smile and kept quiet for several moments. Draco was almost convinced that she wasn’t going to answer, before she began speaking.

“We were so young when we first met. Ron was a constant in my life, you know? He had always been there, and everyone thought we would eventually be together, so it seemed only natural to create these feelings for him in my head,” she explained.

She stared down at her feet as they continued walking.

“But, once the threat of the war was over, we no longer thought our families and loved ones were in danger, and there wasn’t a constant fear that we could die the next day, we both sat back and realized that the feelings were no longer there. We missed our window, I guess. We neither one saw it going anywhere, so we broke it off. He is still one of my dearest friends, but I could never see him being anything more to me again.”

When she finished her story, she looked at Draco. He pondered her words. Finally, he spoke up.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I always thought you could do better. Weasley can barely count to five using his hands. You would have been bored.”

Hermione tried to stifle her laugh, but when he waggled his eyebrows at her, she lost it and settled for shoving his shoulder with her own instead.

 Hermione was still laughing when a cold, calculated voice range out in front of them.

“Well, well,” Pansy Parkinson sneered, fixing Draco and Hermione with her cold eyes, “what do we have here, Blaise, love?”

Blaise Zabini joined her side and shot a bored expression at the two Head students, “I don’t know Pansy, dear. What do you think?”

“I see a blood traitor, taking his pet mudblood for a little stroll,” she quipped before letting out a laugh that sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, prepared to tell Parkinson to shove it, but Draco beat her to the punch.

“Twenty points from Slytherin for insulting the Head Girl. Show some respect, Parkinson,” he growled at her in a menacing voice.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione registered that she should have been concerned about how Draco’s Veela would handle someone insulting its mated. Trying to diffuse the conflict before they found out, she stepped forward and put her hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Parkinson, Zabini,” she said firmly, “you’re pretty far off from the designated areas for students. Please make your way back towards the village, or I will be forced to give you both detention.”

Pansy glowered at Hermione before answering, “How dare you speak to me, you disgusting mudblood? I am your superior. I should teach you how to show me the proper respect,” she finished in a threatening tone.

Draco let out a growl, and his eyes were burning silver. Hermione shot him a concerned look, knowing that the fangs were not far behind and that he didn’t want others knowing his true nature. Steeling her resolve, she retorted.

“Parkinson, now. I mean it.”

Pansy’s eyes swung from Draco to Hermione and back to Draco again. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she turned to Blaise.

“Come along, love,” she crooned, “best leave them to it. Wouldn’t want to interrupt their quest to create disgusting half-blooded children.”

She swung her hips with flare, as she sauntered up to Draco, and dropped her voice, just low enough for both Draco and Hermione to hear.

“Draco, you better get a handle on your mudblood. We wouldn’t want her to get hurt.”

Pansy cackled before finally walking away.

It was all Hermione could do to keep Draco from wrenching from her hands and going after the Slytherin. His eyes were pure silver now, and his fangs were beginning to grow. Hermione took his face in her hands and looked him in the eye.

Draco, honey, we have to ignore her. She’s harmless. Her words mean nothing to me,” Hermione assured him quickly.

He looked at her, eyes still bright and fangs still showing, “She has no right to threaten you. I should tear her limb from limb.”

Hermione felt a flare of panic before answering, “No! Draco, she isn’t worth it. There’s always going to be people like that in our world; I can’t let them bother me, and you shouldn’t either. We are better than that. YOU are better than that.”

At her words, his fangs finally began to sheath themselves, and his eyes returned to their normal color. He sighed heavily before speaking.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just can’t stand it when people talk to you like that. Not only does it upset my Veela, but it also reminds me of how I used to be. How we used to be. And it kills me that I treated you that way.”

He hung his head low.

Hermione took her fingers and forced his chin up, so that she was staring him dead in the eyes.

“Draco, I don’t care about how we used to be. I care about how we are now. I care about the man you are now. Please, don’t let our past define our future.”

She gave him a quick and reassuring kiss. He smiled at her and grasped her hand.

“Alright, but if she says something like that again, you have my full permission to rip each hair from her head,” Draco said, only half joking.

Hermione threw her head back and laughed, turning them around, and putting her arm around his waist. She began to direct them back to the castle.

“Alright, deal.”

**A/N: Okay, so the beginning of this chapter was not planned, it just sort of went that way and created a mind of it’s own. I couldn’t stop, it was like I was possessed. But, I ended up loving it, and I felt like the information was super important, so I wanted to introduce it somehow.**

**That being said, I know that this is just kind of a filler chapter, and I am sorry. But, the stuff presented will be important to the story, so it had to happen. I have made it a goal to ensure that all chapter from this point onward are at least 3,000 words, so be prepared for a few fillers along the way.**

**As always, I am still taking requests, and in fact, I encourage them!**

**On to the next chapter!**

 


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Alright guys, I feel obligated to tell you that this following scene was supposed to be a part of the last chapter, had it not been for my slight deviation in the beginning. However, I decided to make it its own chapter because there is a lot that I wanted to happen in this scene, and I don’t want to make my chapters indecently long. I don’t know about anybody else, but when chapters are too long, I have so much trouble reading through the entirety of them.**

**Anyway, enough of my rambling. I hope you all enjoy this chapter; it’s going to be a sweet, yet integral part of their relationship. It will certainly strengthen it. So, here’s Chapter 14!**

Hermione awoke the Sunday following the Hogsmeade trip to Draco running into her room and plopping on top of her. She let out a shriek of protest and attempted to burrow her head under her pillow. For someone who claimed to not be a morning person, Draco was exceptionally excited.

“Hermione!” he grunted out, attempting to burrow underneath her pillow alongside her.

When he finally managed to infiltrate her fort, he gave her a grin that she had never expected to see coming from the likes of Draco Malfoy. His eyes were bright with excitement, like a child on Christmas morning, and his smile was so wide, she swore that it was lit up.

He looked positively handsome.

And he was all hers.

His grin was contagious, and she could not help the smile she gave him in return. Surrendering to the fact that she had no hope of going back to sleep, she arched her eyebrow at him in curiosity.

“Is there something I can help you with at—“, Hermione paused to look at him, questioning the time, “whatever ungodly hour it is in the morning?”

Draco’s smile, if possible, grew even wider and he answered excitedly, “I have a surprise for you today.”

Hermione giggled and teased him, “And pray do tell, Draco Malfoy, could be so exciting that it trumps spending the day in bed?”

Draco smirked evilly at her and struck like a true snake. Within moments, Hermione was pinned underneath him, his thighs on either side of hers, and she was laughing so hard she could barely breath. Draco smirked down at her a moment longer, before he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“While spending the day in bed with you, mea lux, sounds absolutely tempting, and could absolutely be arranged should you so wish it, I promise you that you will enjoy what I have planned for us today,” he whispered huskily.

Hermione’s breath caught, and she was suddenly painfully aware of every plane of Draco’s body pressing into her own. She could feel exactly how certain parts of his body felt about spending a day in bed together, and the complimentary parts on her own body were certainly agreeing aggressively.

She needed to put a stop to this before she could allow herself to do something that she wasn’t sure she was ready for while simultaneously ruining Draco’s plan. She was certainly glad that he was trying, and she wanted to enjoy whatever hairbrained scheme he had concocted that had him so excited.

Hermione cleared her throat, “Alright, love, we better get out of bed before we start something we can’t finish,” she reasoned, adding a smirk at the end of her suggestion so that she could sound surer of herself.

Draco’s eyes brightened slightly and shone silver. Hermione thought that he might argue with her, but he nodded, his hands balling into fists on either side of her head as if he was trying to gain control. His eyes slowly returned to their normal shade, and he gave her a weak smile.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he managed, his voice still several octaves deeper than normal. He rolled over, letting Hermione up so that she could get ready.

“I’ll meet you in the common room in 20 minutes?” Hermione asked.

Draco’s eyes were bright again, his excitement returning ten-fold.

“Okay!” he said happily, using his Seeker reflexes to hop out of her bed gracefully. He bounded towards the door, only to stop and look back at her to give her a breathtakingly handsome smile. Finally, he shut the door behind him.

Hermione smiled like an idiot at her closed door before turning around the begin her morning rituals.

When Hermione emerged from her room, Draco was exiting the bathroom. For the first time, she took in Draco’s appearance. He was wearing casual clothing; a grey sweater, a casual pair of slacks, and a pair of black, sensible shoes, with a black, expensive looking pea coat to top off the look. It was nothing less than what she would expect from the Slytherin; black and grey were his favorite colors.

She stood on her tip toes to give him a soft kiss, tasting his familiar minty toothpaste still on his breath. She smiled at him and took his hand, urging him towards the portrait hole.

Once the left their common room, Hermione let Draco take the lead as he knew where they were going.

Hermione was completely content until they reached the main hall, and Draco pulled his broom out of his pocket and enlarged it to its original size. He turned to look at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and leaned on the broom casually, likely so he could watch what he would think would be an overreaction.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Draco, my sweet, if you think I am getting on that death trap, you must have been bitten by a murtlap and are suffering from an allergic reaction.” Hermione growled at him, trying to feign affection and failing miserably.

Draco chuckled lightly and looked at her with admiration and affection. Finally, he spoke.

“There’s my fiery girl.” He murmured, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Hermione had to fight the urge to stop her foot like a child. She was NOT getting on that broom.

She met Draco’s eyes and refused to look away. She would not be the one to look away and lose their staring match. She would not budge or submit when it came to this.

It became clear after several moments that Draco had no intention of backing down either.

Hermione slowly began advancing on him, finger pointed at him in a scolding manner.

“Draco Malfoy, you KNOW I have a fear of heights. Make me live in the woods with two boys for months? Fine. Sneak into Gringotts using Polyjuice potion to pretend to be your deranged aunt? Okay. Make me face the evilest wizard in the world? Sure. Want to put me on a broom? Absolutely fucking not.” She seethed.

Draco blinked at her. He stared at her with an unreadable expression for what seemed like several moments before he spoke.

“First, at some point, I need you to explain to me EXACTLY what you did regarding Gringotts and my aunt,” he began, now advancing on her. Before Hermione knew what was happening, he had her backed up against the wall.

“Second,” he purred, his voice getting lower, eyes glowing silver, “do you have _any_ idea how bloody _sexy_ you are when you allow curse words to fall from that pretty fucking mouth?”

Hermione’s breath caught, and she studied his face. His expression was deadly serious, and if someone who didn’t know him looked at him right now, they would miss the hint of amusement.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

She was not going to let him distract her or seduce her onto his broomstick. Literally or figuratively.

“As sexy as you might find it,” she said haughtily, “it does not change the fact that I am not getting on that contraption.”

Draco’s eye softened as they registered actual fear on the Golden Girl’s face. She was truly terrified of flying. He grabbed her chin and tilted it up, so he could state earnestly into her eyes. He wanted her to understand what he was going to tell her and believe it without a doubt in her mind.

“Hermione,” Draco murmured, trying to sound soothing, “do you honestly think I am going to let you get hurt?”

Fear was at the forefront of her expression when she answered, her bottom lip quivering, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s the broom I don’t trust. I really don’t like flying.”

Draco stroked her chin with his thumb, and answered, “Hermione, I won’t let you get hurt, and I am almost certain our Veela wouldn’t allow it to happen regardless. I will go slow, and you can face me, so that you don’t even have to look. I won’t let you get hurt,” he whispered fervently.

When her eyes met his, she bit her lip and looked at the broom still firmly in his grasp. She stiffened, and a look of determination crossed her features. There was his girl, his brave Gryffindor Princess.

“Okay,” she said firmly, no trace of fear left in her expression. Her eyes met his, “I trust you, Draco.”

Draco wondered if she understood just how much her words cut him to the quick and made him feel laid bare. How much it meant to hear her say that to him.

He wasn’t sure his smile could get any wider.

Hermione felt appreciation and awe coming from Draco, and she knew that her words had meant more to him than he was going to be able to articulate. Instead she just placed her palm on his face and nodded as if to say, ‘I know.’  


Draco nodded at her and grabbed her hand, leading her out to the courtyard. He mounted his broom and turned to look at Hermione, who looked like she was weighing the benefits of simply bolting. His beautiful mate had her lip caught between her teeth, which made him want to growl.

Instead, he opted for acting like a normal wizard and held his hand out for her to take. Hermione looked unsure about how to proceed, so Draco tried to talk her through what to do.

“Okay, love, face me and swing your leg over. You can wrap your legs around my waist if it will make you feel more secure, just don’t squeeze too tight.”

Hermione followed his instructions to a T, and once she was situated on the broom, she promptly proceeded to bury her face in his collarbone, refusing to come out. Draco chuckled affectionately.

Hermione allowed herself to be comforted by the spicy and distinctly male scent that clung to Draco, while she felt the broom begin to raise into the air. She let out a soft whimper, but she considered it an accomplishment that that was the only noise that escaped her person while she was trying so hard not to lose the entire plot.

“Hermione, love,” Draco murmured in her ear, “I know you don’t like heights, but I want you to see this.”

Hermione was reluctant, but she trusted her Veela, so she peaked out of corner of her eye.

What she saw was breathtaking.

Draco and herself were hovering in between the Quidditch pitch and the castle. The sight that Draco had wanted Hermione to take in was that of the castle, beautifully restored, and bathed in the morning sunlight. She knew Hogwarts to be beautiful, but she had never been allowed to enjoy the view from this angle before, and she secretly was glad that Draco had forced her to test her limits.

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione breathed in wonder, “it’s beautiful.”

She made eye contact with him, noting the softened expression he fixed her with.

She kissed him softly, “Thank you for showing me this.”

Draco gave her one of the private grins he reserved only for her and chuckled lightly.

“Happy to be of service, Madam,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows. Hermione let out a laugh and shook her head fondly at him.

Draco allowed them to hover there for a moment longer before he began flying in a direction that Hermione did not anticipate: away from the castle.

She reared back and fixed Draco with a look of confusion.

“Where are we going?” she questioned him.

Draco fixed her with a bemused smirk and answered her, amusement clear, “What, you didn’t seriously think that was all I had planned, did you? I’m a Malfoy; we don’t do anything without flare and over-the-top gestures,” he finished, arrogance clear.

Hermione raised her eyebrow at him, and he let out a laugh full of mirth.

Hermione twisted around, trying to pinpoint where they were going, before her eyes found a familiar landmark.

“We’re going to the Quidditch pitch?” she questioned, confusion evident.

Draco had a nostalgic look in his eye when he answered her, “Yes. I have a surprise waiting for you there, and I like being there. It was disappointing to learn that McGonagall was not going to allow retuning 7th years to join teams, but I still like to come down here to think or let off steam from time to time.”

Draco landed them softly and allowed Hermione to dismount before he did. When she finally took in her surroundings, she found that Draco had truly put a lot of thought into their date.

Before her there lay a picnic blanket, with a large basket sitting on top. Her hands flew to her mouth as she let out a gasp. It was such a simple, yet sweet gesture, and she felt her feelings grow even deeper for the Slytherin.

She turned to see him studying her with a nervous look in his eye, like he was waiting for her to tell him it wasn’t good enough. She ran over to him and threw her arms around him, kissing any trace of bare skin she could find.

Draco was laughing as she peppered his face with kisses. When she was finally done, she pulled back and looked at him with shining eyes.

“Draco, this is beautiful. I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me.”

Draco fingered a tendril of her flyaway hair and tucked it behind her ear.

“Anything for you, my darling, the sky is the limit.”

Hermione grinned at his sappish, overdone romanticisms and dragged him over to the picnic blanket. She plopped down unceremoniously and looked at him expectantly, waiting to be doted on. Draco laughed at her ridiculous antics and began unpacking the basket he had the house elves prepare for them early this morning. He pulled out pumpkin juice in a thermos, muffins with jam, and chocolate covered strawberries. Hermione squealed at the last item. Draco smirked, knowing that chocolate covered strawberries were her favorite.

With the smell of freshly cut grass lingering in her nostrils, Hermione stuffed herself full of muffins and pumpkin juice, sure she would not be able to eat much more. Then, Draco began unboxing the strawberries, and she suddenly had more room in her stomach. However, when she reached for the strawberries, Draco held them just out of her reach. He had a look of purpose in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said patting his lap.

She looked at him questioningly, but then laid her head in his lap. Draco look pleased and took a strawberry from the box, dangling it above her mouth, tempting her. However, when she tried to take a bite, he held it away.

“Draco,” she whined, not at all amused by his teasing.

Draco smiled, before gaining a somber look. He studied her a minute, before seeming to come to a decision.

“I want to know more about you, Hermione. So, let’s play a game, shall we? I ask you a question, you answer, you get a strawberry,” Draco suggested, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione laughed, wondering why he felt the need to use games to get information from her. She would willingly tell him anything he wanted to know. He was such a Slytherin.

Although, Hermione had to admit, they had both been avoiding talking about some of the heavy stuff. Superficially, she knew all the simple facts about him, like his favorite color, book, and food, but she knew nothing of his childhood, his happiest memory, or his family.

At least, nothing about the family that hadn’t tortured her or held her captive in his home.

Understanding that they would need to have this talk eventually, Hermione nodded her assent.

“Okay, Malfoy, but for every question you ask me, you have to answer that same question in return. It’s only fair that I get to know you as you are getting to know more about me.”

That seemed to make Draco pause for a moment, but he eventually nodded, albeit cautiously. He settled himself and began with his first question.

“What was your childhood like, Hermione? I know nothing about the typical Muggle childhood.”

There was a time that Hermione might have thought that he was trying to insult her, but there was a distinct air of curiosity about his question, so, with a smile, Hermione opened her mouth to talk to him about it.

“It was happy. Both of my parents were loving, doting, and supportive of me. They were there for every school event, every important event in my life. But most importantly, they were very much in love. They tried to show me in every way possible that true love existed and that I deserved it. They modeled for me what I wanted for my future. Because of them, I never wanted to settle for less. And I have yet to,” Hermione finished, giving Draco a sly smile.

Draco chuckled and gave her a strawberry. Hermione moaned in pleasure when the chocolate melted on her tongue. When she looked up at Draco, his eyes were bright. She cleared her throat.

“Okay, your turn, what was your childhood like, Malfoy?”

Draco’s eyes lost the light they had previously held when the question left her lips. He looked down and swallowed hard. It was several moments before he answered her.

“Most people think my childhood was awful. My father was abusive, a Death Eater in the inner circle, and always pushed a Pureblood marriage on me since I could remember. All of it is true, of course,” he assented, fidgeting with his hands. Hermione grabbed his hand, urging him to continue. He smiled at her gratefully.

“But, there were happy times that I can remember. Like the day my father first taught me to ride a broom. There were no beatings, no expectations. Just he and I, laughing and rolling around in the grass.”

Hermione giggled, trying to imagine the refined Lucius Malfoy rolling around in grass. Draco smiled at her, guessing her thoughts.

“Yes, it is not an image that most people could reconcile. But there was a time,” Draco said wistfully.

“Now, my mother, she was my saving grace. The only person who kept me sane in my later years dealing with my father. She used to read to me every night, and there were times she would take me out on the balcony in my room and point out constellations to me, mostly the ones our family members were named after,” Draco continued fondly, unable to stop. His face then turned hard, all of the sudden, and the next sentence he uttered was growled, “But my father eventually put an end to our adventures, saying it was time I become a man, and men didn’t need to spend time with their mothers. It was right around the same time that he believed that men took permanent marks and served a crazed lunatic,” Draco finished bitterly.

Hermione put her palm on his face and tried to convey comfort to him. Draco smiled at her weakly and cleared his throat.

“I believe it is my turn to ask a question,” he said expectantly. Hermione nodded and gestured for him to go on.

Draco began fidgeting with his hands again, alerting Hermione that the next question was one he suspected would upset her.

“I noticed,” he began nervously, “that you talk about your parents in past tense.”

Hermione stiffened, shutting her eyes to ward off the tears that immediately sprang to her eyes. Draco continued, far more cautiously.

“And a while back, you said you had lost them… and I guess I was just wondering what happened,” he finished softly, watching her face for signs of the distress that he could already feel coming from her.

It was several moments before Hermione began speaking.

“When things started getting bad,” she swallowed hard, “I knew that Harry, Ron, and I would have to leave. I knew we had a job to finish.”

Draco nodded at her, urging her to go on.

“The newspapers continued to bring bad news every day. Muggle families being killed, muggleborns going missing, and parents of muggleborns being tortured. I knew I didn’t have much time left,” Hermione’s voice broke slightly.

Draco tried to convey comforting thoughts to her and smiled at her, urging her to continue. She gave him a weak smile back and looked past his face to the sky, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“When it came time for us to leave, I-I had to make sure my parents were safe,” tears were leaking out of Hermione’s eyes as she laid herself bare for Draco Malfoy to see.

Draco winced and wrapped his arms tighter around her, trying to comfort her.

“I obliviated them,” Hermione whispered brokenly, letting a sob escape her throat against his shoulder as he cradled her with care.

Draco stiffened, drew back, and looked at her in wonder.

“You what?” he asked in disbelief.

“I obliviated them,” she answered, “I had to. I sent them to Australia, devoid of any memories of me, so that they wouldn’t be in danger. I knew that because I was “Harry Potter’s Mudblood”, everyone around me was in danger,” she finished bitterly.

Draco stared at her for a second longer, before he gathered her in his arms tighter than before and whispered softly in her ear.

“I am so sorry, mea lux, I am so sorry,” Draco said, agonized by his own part that he played in her feeling like she needed to do this.

Hermione laughed in the middle of a sob and looked at him.

“Draco, it is not your fault. I don’t blame you, I know you were trying to protect the people you love. I was doing the same thing.”

Draco nodded, unable to help the guilt he felt. He got lost in thought, so much so that he barely registered Hermione continuing to speak.

“When the war was over, I planned to go to Australia to retrieve them. I had researched memory spells, and while it had never been done before, I was confident that I would be able to fix it.”

Draco could feel the heartache and loss radiating from his mate, and his breath caught. Draco desperately hoped that she wouldn’t say what he thought was going to come out of her mouth.

His wish went ungranted.

“But, when I finally found them, it was in a cemetery,” Hermione sobbed, tears now flowing freely down her face, “I did everything I could, and I still couldn’t save them.”

She was sobbing now, tears staining his sweater, and all he could do was hold on to her and try to give her as much comfort as he could. Draco felt guilt trying to drown him, but he held it back, knowing that his mate needed him, and he couldn’t let her down. Her needs had to come first.

When her sobs finally subdued, she wiped her eyes and looked up at him.

“I’m so sorry to lay all of this on you, Draco,” Hermione whispered, pulling away from him.

Draco held her fast and fixed her with a stern look.

“Granger,” he said firmly, “do NOT feel bad laying this on me. I’m your mate, your partner, your rock. You’re supposed to share your burdens with me, that’s how this works.”

Hermione smiled at him through her tears and gave him a sweet kiss. Draco returned her affection with equal fervency and tried to down his guilt with the sensation. Hermione’s small hands came up to cup his mouth as she deepened the kiss, and Draco felt himself moaning at the sensation of her tongue tentatively entering his mouth. His Veela was jumping up and down in happiness.

However, Draco knew that now was not the time to start this. She was not ready. Draco knew that Hermione understood that they could not make love until they were ready to start the mating process; sex was not just going to be sex with her. It would be their eternal bonding, and it must be handled with care. Draco wanted her to be absolutely sure. He wanted her to want him.

He wanted her to love him unconditionally, as he was starting to do her.

Because, once she made that decision, there was nothing that could stop it from happening. There would be nothing that could tear them apart.

There would be no going back.

Draco refused to tie her to him until she was certain.

Reluctantly, Draco pulled back from her attention and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. He smiled at her soft and whisper.

“Oh, my sweet mate, your heart is so pure and so giving. I could not be more lucky to be fated to someone with a more pure spirit,” Draco purred, feeling his Veela slightly influence the amount of romance he put in his words.

His Veela was SUCH a sap.

Hermione giggle nestled into Draco’s lap, enjoying the warmth his body was giving her. They sat there for a while in complete silence, disgusting what they had learned about one another. Hermione knew that she had given Draco a huge piece of her today; she rarely told anyone about her parents. She felt that he understood the significance of her telling him, and that he appreciated the trust she instilled in him. She could feel the wonder and gratitude radiating from him.

Hermione briefly wondered if she would always feel his emotions this intensely.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Draco cleared his throat.

“Darling, as much as I love spending time with you, I am starting to get numb from the cold. We should probably head back to the castle.”

Hermione nodded and stood, holding out her hand to pull Draco up alongside her. She stood back up on her tiptoes to give him another sweet kiss, before she helped his pack up the remainder of their lunch.

Finally, she turned to him and said reproachfully, “While I enjoyed our little ride more than I thought I would, could we possibly stay on the ground on the way back?”

Hermione truly looked so terrified, so Draco simply chuckled and nodded.

“Okay, but don’t think I won’t get you back on my broomstick eventually, Miss Granger,” he joked, waggling his eyebrows to make the double entendre clear.

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. She shook her head at him and teased him back.

“Oh, but Mr. Malfoy, you would have to catch me first!” she yelled and began sprinting towards the castle.

Draco smiled so big it almost hurt. She looked so beautiful in the morning sun, her curls glistening, eyes full of laughter. His heart swelled.

Without wasting too much time but giving Hermione enough time to get a head start, Draco shrunk his broom and the basket to fit into his pocket and took off towards the castle after his mate.

**A/N: Awww, aren’t these two just the cutest??**

**Okay, first I just want to tell you that the murtlap comment was inspired by the fact that I rewatched Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them recently.**

**Secondly, I am looking for someone to make fanart for this fanfiction. It would be absolutely fantastic, and I would definitely give you all the credit.**

**Thirdly, this chapter really ran away from me and got super long. This is exactly why I wanted to make it its own chapter. There was so much emotion, and it really just needed to be on its own. It would not have fit well with the previous chapter. So, you all get a longer chapter than you’re used to!**

**Finally, don’t forget that I am taking requests for one-shots and short stories, as well as full length fanfics. Please don’t hesitate to message me or comment ideas!**

**I am going to try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible. I have started a new job at the hospital, and I am not sure how busy it will be. I will always try to have a few chapters written out ahead of time in case I have a busy week coming up.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Alright, so I am going to apologize in advance, this will be mostly a filler chapter. Unless, of course, my muse takes over and I create another sweet moment. However, in my outline, this is supposed to be a filler chapter, where our couple may have a little bit of a disagreement *shrugs*. But, naturally, who can be sure? I have already deviated from my outline so many times and changed my story line a million different times so who I am to guarantee anything?**

**Although I do feel obligated to tell y’all that I don’t do it on purpose. Sometimes I just get a really good idea, and I have to run with it.**

**I also want to apologize for how long it took me to get back to this story. I started a new job at the hospital, and the hours are kind of long. I work 12 hour shifts, and by the time I get home, I am exhausted and my brain is fried.**

**Also, someone asked me how I was able to explain the fact that Draco is a Veela and his parents weren’t. I really sucked at Genetics, but here is my explanation to the best of my ability. Both of his parents had Veela blood in their family lines, but no one in their past heritage has married into a family that also had Veela blood in it, meaning that the concentration was not as strong. But when their lines joined together, there was a higher concentration than before, and it was enough to make Draco a Veela by nature. Not a full Veela, as those are winged creatures and do not change form like he does, but enough that he must have his mate. Wow, this explanation got longer than it should have.**

**One final thing: I will be going to Europe for the next few weeks and it will be hard for me to update while I am there. I will be doing a lot of writing when I am there, but it will be in my notebook because I will not be taking my laptop, and I will not have a way to update unless I do it on my phone, which I highly doubt I will have the time or desire to do. The good news is that this means I will likely be able to update quite a bit when I get back because of the writing I will get done.**

**Wow this author’s note turned into such a long rant.**

**New note: a few of you brought it to my attention that I duplicated the scene where Hermione tells Draco about her parents and I realized that you were absolutely right, my bad. This is what happens when I take too long to update: I forget what I have written sometimes. I feel really bad, but this is the updated chapter that should make a little more sense. Thank you to those who brought it to my attention**

**Without further ado, Chapter 15!**

Draco could be the first to admit when he was wrong.

No really, Draco understood that many people knew him to be an arrogant toe-rag, but when he was wrong, he could admit it like a man.

However, on this particular morning, he was feeling less inclined to explained to his miffed girlfriend that he had been in the wrong, because it head was still smarting from the Stinging Hex she had sent at the back of his head this morning.

He eyed her from the corner of his gaze as they walked down the hall towards the Great Hall. She had a frown on her face, and she was deliberately avoiding his gaze.

Okay, fine.

If she wanted to be petty, he could play petty as well.

It had started out as teasing. He had merely meant to tease her.

But it seemed as though the Gryffindor Princess had woken up with her tiara up her arse this morning.

When Hermione had walked into the Common Room this morning, she was frowning and looked as though someone had stolen her last niffler.

When Draco opened his mouth to tease her, he never expected her snappish response.

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he had said with an amused expression.

When she had turned her angry gaze on him, Draco had gulped.

“Oh, shove it, you pompous arsehole,” Hermione had growled before stomping into the bathroom.

Draco was still metaphorically scratching his head in confusion when she came back out, still seething and looking like an occamy ready to strike.

“How many times have I told you to put your toothpaste on YOUR side of the sink?” she grit out, holding the offending item in her hand.

Draco had quirked at an eyebrow and scowled at her.

“Never? Seriously, what crawled up your arse and died this morning?”

Hermione’s eyes flashed, and Draco was scarily reminded of the time she slapped him in third year.

And twice this year.

“Malfoy, you KNOW I like order, and I don’t want to have to tell you again to keep your shit ON YOUR SIDE OF THE BATHROOM, YOU STUPID FERRET!”

By the end of her rant, Hermione was shrieking, and Draco growled at her attitude. She had refrained from calling him Malfoy or Ferret for several months now, unless she was teasing him.

“Listen here, you bushy-haired know-it-all,” Draco growled, slowly advancing on her, “I don’t know what your problem is this morning, but I will not be spoken to like that. Now until you can speak to me like an adult, I am done with this conversation.”

Draco began to walk to his room to gather his school bag when he felt the Stinging Hex hit the back of his head. He cursed, but he refused to turn around and satisfy her need for a fight.

Bringing himself back to the present, Draco looked at Hermione fully and decided to try to extend the olive branch.

“Love, are you feeling okay today?”

Hermione continued to refuse to look at him. She just answered in a cool voice that Draco was sure was aimed at informing him that she was still mad and would not be cooperating to say the least.

“I am perfectly fine, thank you, Malfoy.”

Draco rolled his eyes at her use of his surname again and sneered at the nearest student passing them in the hallways. If he was going to be miserable today, so was everyone else.

When the couple entered the Great Hall, Hermione continued to give him the cold shoulder, even when they sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors.

“Good morning, ‘Mione,” Neville said with a smile.

Hermione just scowled into her porridge, as though the offending breakfast food had personally affronted her.

“O-kay,” Neville said slowly, unsure of how to proceed a Hermione that was not her normal, perky self.

Ginny met Draco’s eyes across the table. The redhead bit her lip and looked away, a concerned look on her face. Draco narrowed his eyes. The Weaselette knew something. He turned back to Longbottom and gave him a sneer.

“Sorry, Longbottom, it seems as though someone has pissed in the Golden Girl’s porridge this morning, I doubt she will be civil.”

Neville looked taken aback, before he turned to look at his own porridge, avoiding Hermione’s withering stare.

‘Smart man,’ Draco thought grimly.

The rest of breakfast passed much the same way: Hermione glared her breakfast and stabbed at it ferociously, and Draco continued to ignore her boorish behavior. She was rivaling that of Weasley’s temper, and Draco was even more irritated to be reminded of him.

When the end of breakfast was near, McGonagall stood up at the head table and clapped her hands, requesting the attention of those in the room.

“Students, good morning. I have an important announce, and you would all do well to pay attention,” she began sternly.

Several hundred eyes immediately looked towards the front of the hall dutifully. McGonagall was not to be trifled with.

“After much deliberation with the staff, we have decided that students need a break for the coming holidays,” she explained, giving a small smirk.

Several students broke out in applause, and a few could even be heard shouting “Here, here!” Laughter ensued, along with excited whispers debating what the surprise could possibly be. Only a stern look from McGonagall was able to silence the room once more.

“That being said, the teachers have decided that we will hold a Christmas Ball on the Friday before everyone goes home for Yule. The Prefects, headed by the Head Boy and Girl, will plan this event, and I must ask that I speak to the Head Boy and Girl after breakfast. Any further announcements regarding the Ball will be given as I am updated. Now, run along. Class awaits,” McGonagall said firmly, before walking around to the front of the table.

Draco’s eyes met Hermione’s still angry ones, and they both began the trek to the front of the Hall, still refusing to utter a word to one another.

When they reached the front, McGonagall gave them both a measured look before beginning.

“Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,” she said in her firm voice, “I would like the priority of tonight’s Prefect meeting to be focused on planning the Ball. I expect notes to be taken and discussed with me as soon as possible. I realize that four weeks is barely enough time, but I have confidence in your abilities.”

Hermione simply nodded and forced a smile. Draco eyed her for a second and then turned to meet McGonagall’s shrewd gaze.

“Yes, Professor, of course,” he answered formally, before turning to walk to class, Hermione trudging behind him.

XxXxXXxXxxxxXxX

Try as he might, Draco’s stubborn mate was completely unreachable during Potions. She refused to answer any of his questions or comments with anything other than one worded answers, and Draco was desperately trying to understand where he had gone wrong. He gave up when Hermione quickly left after class without him.

As he was leaving the classroom, he was bombarded by a flash of red hair. Ginny Weasley approached him and linked her arm with his, as if they were old friends. The Veela inside of him growled in disapproval; she didn’t smell right.

Draco had to hand it to the Weaselette: she had balls.

“Is there a reason you’ve decided to accost me, Red?” he questioned with a bored drawl.

The young Weasley smirked at him.

“Oh, Malfoy, you are such a Slytherin. You’re either too proud or too blind to accept help when it is right in front of you,” she said sweetly, slightly digging her finger nails into his arm in warning.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and bared his teeth.

“And pray do tell, Weaselette, what help could you possibly offer me?” he asked arrogantly.

The redhead narrowed her eyes at him and abruptly let go of his arm. She paused to study him.

Finally, she smirked in a way that would impress even Lucius Malfoy.

Draco gulped.

“Well, ferret, I was planning on offering you some advice about our favorite bookworm, but since it seems you have it all figured out, I’ll just let you fix the riff between you on your own,” Ginny began to walk away from him, hips swaying with attitude.

‘That little swot,’ Draco growled to himself. She had taken his biggest weakness and dangled a solution right in front of him, then snatched it back just as quick to work things in her own favor.

How very Slytherin of her.

“Wait,” Draco called out with clenched teeth. He sighed in defeat.

Finally, he spoke, “What do I do?” he questioned in a defeated voice.

Ginny turned back around and assessed him for what seemed like hours. Finally, her calculated gaze softened, and she took pity on him.

“Oh, Malfoy,” Ginny sighed, looking at her feet, her confidence she previously held was gone. Draco looked at her imploringly, and she finally opened her mouth to answer.

“Hermione, much like the rest of us, felt the affects of the war. She’s had to suffer, and sometimes I would argue that she suffered more than most, though no one should have had to in the first place.”

Ginny was glaring at the floor, and Draco could not stop the wave of guilt he felt. He played a part in her suffering. He was at fault.

After what seemed like several moments, Ginny fixed Draco with a piercing stare. He could not help but feel like he was being examined from inside out, and he tried to not squirm in discomfort. Finally, she spoke.

“Malfoy, I know you carry a great deal of guilt, but you know that Hermione doesn’t hold it against you. She is the fiercest woman I know, but she also has more compassion than anyone I have ever seen. She sees something in you, she believes in you, and she’s won’t give up on you.”

Draco swallowed hard and furrowed his brows, “I appreciate the sentiments, Red, but how does that help me today, when she’s being a right wench?” he growled in frustration.

Ginny chuckled and began making her way down the hall again, hands clasped behind her back, “I am merely reminding you that she won’t give up on you, so don’t give up on her. We’re all entitled to our bad days,” she paused and looked back at him, hands still clasped, “you just have to decide if the few bad days are worth the days of peace and contentment.”

Draco puzzled over her words as she began walking again. Before she turned the corner, he called out to her.

“Ginny!”

She looked back, eyebrow raised at his calling her by her given name. Draco had the decency to look chagrined, before he continued to speak.

“Thank you,” Draco cleared his throat, trying to avoid her eyes before giving up and looking at her.

Ginny had a funny look on her face, like she didn’t quite know what to say. Finally, she answered him.

“Consider it a thank you. I would have given you flowers instead, but it seems that they are sparse this time of year.”

Ginny gave him a small smirk and continued down the hall.

XxXxXXxXXXxXXx

Draco’s conversation with the young Weasley was still echoing in his head when he entered the classroom for the Prefect meeting. Draco understood that Hermione had suffered, he had been forced to watch a particularly scarring incident in his own home, but that wasn’t what upset him. He was upset that Hermione felt she couldn’t come to him. She had been his rock through so many of his freak outs, and he wanted to do the same for her.

He was her partner, too, damn it.

Draco scowled at the Prefects that had arrived early and took his seat at the front of the classroom next to his frustrating mate, trying to give her the space she so clearly desired. He still had not a clue how to approach her mood today. The only relief he had found was that it seemed she was upset with everyone and not just him, so Draco could safely deduce that he was not the problem.

Still, his Veela was extremely upset at the loss of contact coming from his mate today, so Draco could not help but snake his hand towards hers. When he grasped her hand in his, she turned to look at him with a skeptical look, before looking back at the parchment she had been writing on. Draco frowned at her lack of enthusiasm, but he was prepared to take what he could get at this point.

He had been too hopeful, too soon.

The minute the clock struck the hour, Hermione took her hand back, rather forcefully if Draco’s opinion had been asked, and she stood to begin the meeting.

“Hello, everyone. As you heard this morning, we have been given the task of planning a Christmas Ball this year. We only have a few weeks to plan this, so I need everyone to put forth as much effort as they possibly can. They’re counting on us to make this spectacular,” Hermione clapped her hands together, “That being said, I am now opening the floor to suggestions. I will be leading the discussion, while Malfoy takes notes.”

Hermione looked at Draco expectantly, and he scowled back at her.

‘Contrary wench,’ Draco growled to himself, ‘why does she always have to be so _bossy_?’

His eyes never leaving hers, he yanked his bag up onto the table, pulled out his quill and a piece of parchment, and slammed the offending items on the table top, nonverbally voicing his displeasure at her behavior. Hermione stared back defiantly.

Several Prefects shifted uncomfortably.

In the back, someone forced a cough.

Hermione shifted her attention back to the room and forced a somewhat pleasant smile.

“Alright, does anyone have any suggestions?” she said in a much too chipper voice.

Parvati Patil raised her hand cautiously. She had been at the receiving end of Hermione’s temper earlier that day, and she did not want a repeat.

“I think the first thing we should talk about should be ground rules for the ball. Should we include all years, or just fourth and up?”

“Excellent point,” Hermione commented, “we normally don’t allow the younger years to come to things like this, so I say we should just keep that rule.”

Draco snorted and shook his head slightly, still bent over the parchment taking notes. Hermione turned her gaze on him and met his eyes. She narrowed hers.

“And, what exactly is so funny, Malfoy?”

Draco bristled. He understood that she was having a shitty day. He would give her that.

But he was not going to allow her to patronize him in front of a group of people they were supposed to be in charge of _together._

He threw down his quill.

“Well, _Granger_ ,” he emphasized her name, seeing as they were apparently back to calling one another by their last names, “I think that barring the younger years from this event is idiotic. McGonagall specifically said that she wanted this to be a way for students to relax. So, why should only the older years get to do that?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes further and stalked towards the table he sat at.

“Because, _Malfoy_ ,” Hermione gritted out, placing equal emphasis on his name, “younger students are more susceptible to being mislead by older students into doing things that are inappropriate. There are age limits on things for a reason.”

Draco rolled his eyes and stood up, bracing his hands on the table in front of him, staring her down with equal irritation and passion.

“Granger, this is a _ball._ What exactly are you expecting will happen?”

Hermione laughed a humorless laugh and placed her hands in a similar position facing him, her side to the rest of the room.

“Well, Malfoy, there all kinds of scenarios that I could paint for you, please tell me exactly which one you would like to hear. It shouldn’t be hard, since you should be familiar with every single one of them!”

Draco growled and opened his mouth to retort.

The Prefects watched the two Heads go at it with fear and amusement both clear in their eyes. With their heads moving back and forth as though they were watching a tennis match, the scene would have looked quite comical to an outside point of view.

Finally, Ginny Weasley had had it.

“ENOUGH!” she roared as she jumped to her feet.

Draco and Hermione turned their heads to look at the young redhead, both equally startled by her outburst.

“Merlin’s saggy balls, you two! We thought the years of you two squabbling like first years were gone! Both of you sit down, pull the broomsticks from your arses, and run this meeting before I remind you of how awful my Bat Boogey Hex is!”

Ginny sat down with a huff, and Hermione had the decency to looked embarrassed by her behavior.

“Right, you’re absolutely correct, Ginny, we need to finish this meeting,” she murmured before taking her place standing at the front of the room again.

Neville tentatively raised his hand. Hermione acknowledged him and he began to speak.

“We could, um, make the curfew earlier for the younger years? Like, allow them to attend, but only till 11, and then end the ball at 1 for all other years?”

Hermione sent a small smile towards Neville and nodded.

“That actually sounds like a fantastic compromise, Neville, thank you.”

Hermione turned to look at Draco, as if searching for his approval. He stared at her blankly for several seconds before nodded imperceptibly. Hermione turned back to the rest of the room and addressed them.

“Does that sound good to you all?”

The Prefects around the room nodded, simply relieved that the duo had ceased their screaming match.

Hermione sighed in relief and addressed them once more, “Alright, now that that is settled, let us move along.”

The rest of the meeting ran rather smoothly, with few disagreements, and a lot of planning was finalized. It was decided that the Prefects and Heads would take shifts serving as chaperones, so that teachers could also enjoy the ball. The decorations were easy to finalize; many people adored the winder wonderland that had been created at the Yule Ball in fourth year and wished to replicate it.

When they were finally able to adjourn the meeting, Hermione took her time packing her things back in bag. Draco really wanted to walk out the door and continue to ignore her; she had given him no reason to believe that she wanted to talk, and he didn’t want to push her. But, something in him, whether it was his Veela or Ginny, told him that she needed him, and he should stay.

Sighing heavily, he dropped his satchel by the door and approached her slowly. When he was a mere foot away, she finally looked up at him with red rimmed eyes.

She had been crying.

It didn’t matter that she had been mean to him this morning. It didn’t matter that she had been uncooperative when he tried to talk to her. None of it mattered.

He opened his arms, silently offering solace and forgiveness.

She flew into his arms, burying her head in chest, sobs wracking her tiny frame. Draco simply held her, murmuring soft comforting words to her, stroking her hair, attempting to calm her anguish.

After what seemed like hours, she finally looked at him, eyes red and nose runny.

Draco never thought she looked so beautiful, and he told her so. She snorted.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, “talk to me, love. What’s going on, today?”

Hermione looked down, avoiding his eyes, before she gave a tearful laugh.

“When I tell you, you’re going to think I am so very stupid,” she mused quietly.

Draco shook his head, “Hermione, it can’t be stupid if it is effecting you this much. Clearly, it is important to you, so it’s important to me. I just need you to talk to me. Trust me. Let me be your rock.”

Tears filled her eyes once again, and she fidgeted with her hands.

“Today is my parents wedding anniversary,” she murmured, “Every year, my mother would dress up, and my father would wait at the bottom of the stairs, nervous as a teenager taking his girlfriend out on their first date. Regardless of whether he had been married to her for 20 years, regardless of the fact that he had seen her just a few hours prior, he would always freeze in awe when she came down the stairs. He would look at her like she was the only woman in the world, and to him, she probably was. I always remember thinking that I would kill for a love like that,” Hermione continued her story, tears now freely falling down her face.

Draco brushed them free and urged her to continue.

“When they got home, they would always come get me and sit me on the couch with them. We would all fall asleep watching movies on the telly together. It became a tradition, one that we never skipped, until…” Hermione trailed off, a sob escaping her throat.

Draco crushed her to him again, pained to see her in such agony. Her behavior today suddenly made so much sense, and he ached for her. His own parents had never been affectionate towards one another, so Draco had no idea how it felt to lose something like what Hermione had, but he could feel the pain coming from her, and it doubled his own.

He held her for what felt like an eternity before he pulled back, keeping her circled in his arms. He tilted her head up, so he could fully meet her beautiful chocolate orbs with his own chaotic grey ones.

 “Love, I am so sorry. I had no idea. I would have been far more cooperative had I known,” he murmured.

Hermione laughed through her tears and retorted, “No, Draco, I’m the one whose sorry. I was a right swotty bitch today, and you didn’t deserve that. I should have told you sooner, let you comfort me through it, or at least given you a fair warning. I’m just not used to depending on people, and it scares me,” she admitted.

Draco pressed his lips to her forehead and murmured, “I know exactly how you feel, mea lux. But next time, my darling, can you please try to communicate with me? You’re safe with me, you know that don’t you? We all have our demons from the war; let me help you battle yours. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

Hermione looked at him in awe, before she pressed her mouth firmly to his. Draco groaned in approval. He didn’t care that he could taste the salt of her tears, he was simply happy to taste her again.

Unfortunately, Hermione pulled back way too soon for Draco’s liking. She put her hands on either side of his face and smiled at him.

“I am sorry, love,” she conceded softly, “I will try to let you help me. I can’t promise that I will be good at it, but I am willing to share my burdens with you. But, you have to do the same. Let me help you carry yours, too,” she finished sternly.

Draco through his head back and laughed, “Alright, I can do that.”

Draco backed up and picked up her bag for her.

“So, what do you say we go back to the common room, I have an elf bring up some chocolate covered strawberries, and you and I spend an evening relaxing?” Draco suggested, rubbing comforting circles on the back of her hand.

Hermione grinned at him and her heart soared; he seemed to know just what she needed before she herself knew. She nodded at him and began to lead him towards the door and out into the hall.

“By the way,” Draco said casually, “that redheaded friend of yours is bloody terrifying.”

It was Hermione’s turn to throw her head back and laugh. She nodded at him through her laughter. She put her arm around his waist and let him bring his arm up around her shoulders as they continued walking.

“Yes, my dear, that she is.”

**A/N: That chapter really got away from me, and it just didn’t want to end. I kept trying to end it, but it never seemed right. I messed around with it a lot and banged my head against the wall a couple times before I finally decided to post it.**

**That being said, I think this is one of my favorite filler chapters for this story. Though it was filled with them fighting, I think it really shows an important dynamic that a lot of Dramione fics tend to miss out on. When you read most Dramione fics, Draco is always the one to apologize constantly, it seems, when Hermione can apparently do no wrong. I don’t think that kind of trope is super realistic; both parties in every relationship mess up at some point and need to seek forgiveness, and that is really what I wanted to portray in this chapter.**

**Also, the part about her parents and their anniversaries was totally unplanned. I had already planned to make that the reason, but I had not planned to get into detail. It just felt right though, and I felt like it needed to happen. I also almost made myself cry writing that part, because it was just too sweet.**

**Okay, down to business away from my ramblings. Don’t forget, I am looking for someone to do fanart for this piece. PRETTY PLEASE! I will give you complete credit, and it could really help some artists get out there.**

**Second, I am still taking requests. COME ON GUYS. I really want to write what you guys want to read, and I really love a challenge.**

**Third, I am looking for someone to beta this fanfic for me. Must be someone who is reliable and easy to communicate with. You must be as prompt as I am, at least. Anyone interested should inbox me!**

**I think that’s everything. On to the next!**


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